


Don't Call Me Sammy

by UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, Hell, M/M, Rape, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Soulless Sam Winchester, Torture, mentions of Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Sam Winchester throws himself into Lucifer's prison, ensuring that the Devil is locked away. But now, he's locked in there with him, and Lucifer has nothing better to do but to hurt him.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilwriter37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Supernatural fanfiction. Originally it was going to be a one-shot, but then it ended up being long enough to qualify as a novella, so I'll be posting it in parts.

Sam could see everything Lucifer did. He could feel everything. And it broke his heart because it now felt like he was beating his brother to death. He felt his fist connect with Dean’s face over, and over, and over, and over again. He heard him calling out for him as he took his beating, not fighting back so as to not harm his brother’s body. Sam could see Dean’s swollen, bleeding face. This had to stop!

Lucifer was doing more than harming Dean. He was fighting Sam, who was trying tooth and nail to get control back. But he was tired. No, he couldn’t give up. Dean’s battered face made him want to scream. This hurt him more than any physical pain he’d ever felt.

And then, Lucifer faltered. Was it because Sam was thinking about Dean?

Desperately, Sam grabbed at the possible weapon presented to him. He went through memory after memory of Dean. All the moments Dean had his back, all the moments they laughed together, hunted together, hugged. All they’d ever done was look out for each other. He showed Lucifer everything in one large burst of emotions.

 _Yes!_ he thought when control shifted over to him.

Lucifer was slamming himself against the wall he’d erected in his mind, trying to get free. The fight of holding him back exhausted Sam so much that he didn’t even have the energy to cry over Dean’s wounded state, but he was able to talk. He had to reassure his brother. “It’s okay, Dean. It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got him.”

With great difficulty he dropped the rings he and Dean had acquired from the four Horsemen onto the yellowed and dead grass that covered the ground, and recited the incantation. Lucifer’s prison opened, a deep well of blackness. He looked back at Dean as a last goodbye before turning back to the prison, ready to jump in. The wind from the void tore at him, like it was yearning to have Lucifer back in its depths. Like it understood what had to happen. 

Just as he was about to jump in, a voice called to him, “Sam!” He turned to look at Michael. “It’s not gonna end this way. Step back.”

“You’re gonna have to make me!” Sam cried. Nothing was going to stop him from completing his task.

“I have to fight my brother, Sam,” Michael responded. “Here and now. It’s my destiny.”

Sam looked at Dean, at his bloodied and swollen face. He could barely recognize his own brother. Lucifer had done this to him, and if he didn’t do this, if he didn’t go into the prison, the world would burn. So Sam closed his eyes, spread his arms out, and began to fall backwards into the void. Michael reached forward and grabbed his jacket, but not even Michael could stop him now. Sam grabbed his arm, and pulled him down with him. The two of them fell, and Sam was swallowed in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have been reading my other fanfictions, well, this is partially the reason the updates were delayed. I was working on this and I wanted to finish it before posting it. So sorry about that. And to my other readers who are only being introduced to my writing through this fic, well, I hope you enjoyed it, and there'll be more where that came from.


	2. Part Two

He hit hard ground, releasing a groan of pain. Sam lay there, assessing his body to determine if any damage had been done to him. He was surprised that nothing was broken; he’d just have some pretty nasty bruises.

Sam rolled over onto his back and looked up. There were silver bars above him, overlapping like a cage, and beyond that was a void. 

A few moments passed as Sam awaited the onslaught he’d surely receive from Lucifer. He took deep breaths as fear engulfed him.

Nothing happened.

It was then that Sam realized he was all alone in his head. He was about to rejoice, but then grunts of pain met his ears. Sam sat up and eyed the other two men in the cage with him. Michael and Lucifer. Out of the two of them, the man with the dirty blond hair and scraggly beard scared him the most. Not to say that Michael didn’t frighten him, just that his brother was much more terrifying.

In the fiery light that ringed the cage and spilled inwards Sam could see that they were just starting to lift themselves off the ground, their gazes locked. Sam saw hatred in their eyes. A hatred so feral he wished he could disappear. 

His presence in that cage felt obvious to him all of a sudden. He felt too large, like a giant boulder amidst an open field.

Scrabbling backwards toward the edge of the cage caused more of a racket than he wanted it to. He held his breath, but the two angels still hadn’t looked his way. 

Slowly, Sam edged around the cage to a corner. And there he waited, hugging his knees to his chest in the hopes of making himself smaller. 

He watched as Michael stood, eyeing the cage frantically. He tilted his head upwards and began to shout. “Father! Father, get me out of this cage!” When nothing happened he yelled forlornly, “I’m your favorite! Your most loyal son!”

Sam’s gaze flicked to Lucifer as he snickered. He was kneeling, brushing his shirt of nonchalantly. 

“Give it a rest, Michael. Father doesn’t care.”

Michael whipped around and he grabbed Lucifer’s shirt, lifting him to his feet. He slammed Lucifer back against the cage, rattling the bars in the process. Sam hoped they were too distracted to notice the corner where the sound was muffled. 

“He does,” Michael snarled. “He does!”

“Then why are you still in here?”

With a growl Michael turned away from him. Lucifer just straightened his clothes as if this was nothing new to him. Then again, he’d been used to arguing with Michael for thousands of years, and the prison they were now in was more his home than the Earth above, or even Heaven. 

“It’s your fault I’m in here,” Michael said as he began pacing. “It’s your fault this prison exists.”

“No,” Lucifer responded calmly, “it’s our father’s fault.”

“Father loves me,” Michael snapped.

Lucifer sighed and his eyes roamed the prison. Sam gulped when his gaze fell on him. Lucifer smiled. 

“Hello there, Sam,” he practically crooned.

Michael turned to see whom his brother had addressed. Sam frantically kicked himself backwards against the bars as Michael’s eyes turned dark. 

“ _You!_ ”

Sam cried out as Michael lunged forward, and he squeezed his eyes shut. But no attack came. Hesitantly, he opened them and saw that Lucifer had him in a headlock. 

“ _Don’t touch my vessel_ ,” Lucifer said, his voice so dangerous and cold that Sam shuddered. 

Then, he released Michael, who eyed Sam with anger before walking to the far side of the cage. His view of Michael became blocked when Lucifer stood before him.  
“No,” Sam murmured as he approached. 

That did nothing. Lucifer was still coming towards him, and then he knelt down beside him, reaching out a hand. Sam shied away from him, but there was no escape. He shook with fear as Lucifer began to run a hand through his hair. Sam felt bile rise into his throat. 

“It’s alright, Sammy,” Lucifer said softly.

Anger flared up in him, along with disgust, and outrage, when he heard the nickname Dean had given him said in Lucifer’s cold voice. Through gritted teeth he addressed him, “ _Don’t call me Sammy._ ”

“Why not, Sammy? Because I’m not your big brother?” He then took on a serious look that somehow managed to mock him, made him feel like a child. “Is it because I’m Satan?”

At that, Sam got up the courage to spit in Lucifer’s face. He didn’t wipe it off, and instead grabbed Sam, choking him. He leaned in so close that Sam could smell his breath. The smell of burning fleshing made Sam gag amidst his gasping for air.

“That courage of yours is impressive,” he whispered. “The two of us are going to have so much fun together, Sammy.”

Sam’s lungs ached and his vision blurred before turning black.


	3. Part Three

Sam opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground in the cage, Lucifer sitting cross-legged beside him, a cruel looking knife with a hilt wrapped in black leather in his hands.

Had he died? Again? He assumed he was already dead since he was in this prison. He’d probably died on his way down. So what had happened after Lucifer choked him? And, Sam thought as he looked around, where was Michael?

Lucifer somehow knew he was awake. He flashed Sam a smile as he thumbed the sharp blade. 

“Where’s Michael?” Sam asked as he sat up. His pulse raced, it was strange to be asking the Devil questions.

“I sent him away to another part of my prison,” he answered. “Wouldn’t want him to be the third wheel, now would we?”

“Third wheel?” Sam questioned quietly, his eyes still on the knife. His mind didn’t want to grasp what Lucifer was implying.

Sam felt Lucifer’s eyes on him, probing beneath his clothes, beneath his skin, straight to his soul. It made him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, you heard me correctly, Sammy. Third wheel.”

“I told you not to call me Sammy.”

The Devil lunged forward, knife in hand. Before Sam could even lift up his arms to defend himself Lucifer had knocked him to the ground, and he straddled him, the knife cold against his neck. Sam’s breaths were shaky.

“You’re my vessel, Sam. Mine. And since you’re mine I can call you whatever I damn well please. Oh Sammy… Sammy, Sammy, Sammy… How will we spend our time together?”

Sam flinched when Lucifer nicked his neck. Sam actually felt more vulnerable when he pulled the knife away.

The look in Lucifer’s dull blue eyes was feral, making Sam wish he could sink into the ground. He thought about fighting him, but then that left his head. He didn’t have the right blade to do any real damage, and the dark angel above him was much stronger than him.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Lucifer leaned over him and pressed his lips against the warm trickle of blood on his neck. Sam trembled as he licked him, his forked tongue making its way along the trail to the wound. It felt strange, and just wrong.

“Mm… All that demon blood in you is intoxicating. But there’s just enough you left. Just enough Sam.”

“No.”

“That seems like your new favorite word. Come on, Sammy. I thought that you of all people would understand. Demon blood is the best drug in the universe.”

And with that Lucifer was sucking viciously at the wound, letting out moans of contentment that churned Sam’s stomach.

With a cry of fear, and built-up resolve, Sam grabbed Lucifer’s head and twisted till he heard a snap. He then rolled them over, put a knee to his chest, and grabbed the knife from his hand. This took only a few seconds, and now that the moment was over, Sam didn’t know what to do. His stomach clenched when Lucifer snapped his neck back into place. His eyes went to the knife in Sam’s hand, and he laughed.

“What now, Sammy? Are you going to hurt me? Come ooon, I know you want to.”

Sam fell back, the knife collapsing from his hand. Lucifer stood and went over to collect it, and Sam backed away.

“Wise choice,” he remarked.

There was tense silence until Lucifer said, “Strip.”

Sam was so caught off guard that he asked, “What?” without any fear in his voice.

“You heard me,” Lucifer responded. He gestured to him with the knife. “Clothes off, Sammy.” Sam said nothing, and he just sat there. Lucifer let out an exasperated sigh, “How are we going to have any fun when you’ve got your clothes on? Chop, chop. Strip, before I take them off myself.”

Sam knew that it was best to torture someone while they were naked, exposed, so Sam sat there, refusing to do anything Lucifer said. Also, there was a strange light in Lucifer’s eyes that made chills go down his spine.

Lucifer took a step forward. A warning. “Sammy…”

“I won’t let you do this to me, Lucifer.”

He laughed, making Sam’s heart crawl its way up into his throat. “Oh Sam. When will you learn? You’re my bitch.” He shook his head adamantly, to which Lucifer said, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

Sam took a deep breath before saying emphatically, “Lucifer, I will not let you torture me.”

Lucifer cocked his head to the side as he crept closer. “You’re cute, Sam, I’ll give you that, but I’m going to have my fun with you whether you put up a fight or not.” He spread his hands out as he shrugged. “I mean, why not just do as I say? It’ll make things easier for you.”

“I won’t willingly give myself to you.”

Lucifer laughed, getting too close now. Sam was backed up against the bars. His eyes followed Lucifer’s hand as he leaned down and grabbed the bars beside his head. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he looked up at him.

Sam fought to take deep breaths as Lucifer brought his mouth closer to his ear. His lips brushed against him as he whispered, “You already did.”

He was right. That was the truth of it. It was the reason he was in the cage to begin with. He’d said yes to Lucifer. Whatever happened to him down here was his own fault. Despite that, Sam was proud he had done it. He’d done it to save the world, and more importantly, Dean. As Lucifer pulled away and gave him a smile that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, Sam still didn’t regret his choice. Yet, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him without a fight. There was honor in accepting defeat, but there was nothing wrong in going down fighting. So, Sam pushed Lucifer away and he stood, clenched his hands into fists. 

“Finally cooperating are we, Sammy?”

“No,” he said resolutely. “If you want my clothes off, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

Lucifer began to pace, seeming thoughtful. “You know, Sam, I’ve got to hand it to ya. I didn’t know you had this much of a fight left in you. I thought I tired you out by wearing your body around. It’s a nice body, by the way. Very strong, and the Devil’s Trap tattoo on your chest? Genius. You don’t want those sons of bitches getting up in you. Me, on the other hand, well, I’m a little different.”

Sam listened to Lucifer’s little speech as his blood began to turn cold. It horrified him that Lucifer knew his body as intimately as he himself did. He swallowed roughly. “You done?”

It was then that Lucifer lunged at him, and Sam struck out, giving him a sound uppercut to his chin that left him reeling. Rather than attack him as he usually would an enemy, he waited for Lucifer to make his next move. He wouldn’t place himself closer to him on purpose, and he wanted to save his energy. For some reason he felt a constant exhaustion. It didn’t worsen, but Sam didn’t want to take that chance.

Lucifer shook himself out before exclaiming, “That felt good!” And then he and Sam began to circle each other. Sam was in a position that would work well with either offense, or defense. He had his arms raised, close to his body, his hands balled into fists. He didn’t want to let Lucifer know just yet that he wouldn’t attack him.

And then Lucifer ran towards him again, raising his knife. Sam lifted his arm up to block, and he braced himself for the pain that would soon come. A stinging sensation in his arm flashed through his nerves as Lucifer’s knife slashed him, tearing skin and muscle. Now that Lucifer’s arm was lower, Sam went to punch him in the face. He looked at Lucifer, surprised, when he simply grabbed his fist and stopped him.

Sam went in for another punch, and Lucifer swept upward with his knife, ripping into his shirt. That was worse than the cut on his arm because it was one step closer to what Lucifer wanted.

The fight continued, and Sam gave in to his instincts, his reflexes, and the wild pump of adrenaline. Each hit he landed on Lucifer jarred his entire arm up to his shoulder, but he kept going. He had to.

Sam’s blood from multiple wounds stained his clothes and dripped down to the dark stone, which seemed to drink it up eagerly. His clothes were beginning to hang off of him in tatters, strips of cloth littering the ground.

Lucifer backed away, and he twirled the knife in his hand. He didn’t look any worse for having been punched multiple times. Sam eyed the knife, really wanting to grab it, but Lucifer had a good hold on it. And he didn’t do any fancy tricks while fighting. His moves were quick and methodical without any flare.

“This is turning out to be much more interesting than I thought it would,” he commented as he looked Sam up and down. “You know I’m going easy on you, right?”

Sam tensed at his words. He’d been having a hard time just keeping Lucifer off of him. Why was he toying with him like this? Some deranged form of entertainment?

One reason this was such a challenge was because Lucifer had been in his head. He knew things Sam had never told anyone, his deepest, darkest secrets. He knew everything he’d ever learned, ever done, and that included his fighting style. Somehow, Sam was going to have to change it, do the unexpected.

Pretending to not be phased by what Lucifer had said, Sam responded, “I kinda figured.”

Lucifer saw through his lie. “It’s okay you didn’t know, Sam. Besides, how could you? We’ve never fought like this before. Let me tell you, I find it rather invigorating. I like this intimacy. It can be our special thing.”

Sam bared his teeth at him as he let an angry puff of air out through his nose. He uncurled and curled his fists.

“Stop toying with me,” Sam said.

“Why would I?” Lucifer asked, looking at Sam as though he were crazy. “We shared a connection even before you said yes to me. So now, this is entertaining. Come on, Sammy, you’re telling me you’re not having any fun? When was the last time you really had an opponent this challenging?”

“You like hearing yourself talk,” Sam stated.

Lucifer ignored him. “Oh, that’s right. It was your brother, Dean. About a year ago when you were getting yourself all hyped up with demon blood, if I remember correctly.” He chuckled. “And then you released me from this prison.” His head tilted as he looked around the cage, and then his eyes fell on Sam again. They were dark with anger. “Only to put me back in again.”

That look in his eyes made Sam more afraid than before. Before, Lucifer had been calm, but now, he was really facing down the Devil, and he was pissed. Despite that, he was still able to speak in a clear voice, “It was the right thing to do.”

“Right thing to do?” Lucifer asked as he lunged forward and slammed Sam back against the cage, a hand around his neck. He held the knife up, ready to stab downward and deliver the killing blow. Sam scrabbled at his hand, trying to get him to let go. His lungs screamed for air and his neck hurt. “I’m in here because I loved my father.”

Sam found enough breath in him to talk, his voice a rasping wheeze, “I don’t… want to hear… your sob story.”

The grip Lucifer had on his neck tightened, and Sam thought his eyes were about to pop out of his head. With a scream of rage, Lucifer stabbed downward. Sam screamed as it pierced his flesh, and burrowed its way through bone. His body attempted to retch when he saw the knife hilt, jutting out of his cheek like a thorn. Blood seeped from the wound.

Lucifer released him and he collapsed. Sam lifted his hand to the knife hilt sticking out of his face. As he was about to grasp it, his hand faltered. Lucifer’s grim expression lit by the circle of fire around the cage blurred in Sam’s vision as he struggled for breath. His blood, salty and metallic, bubbled up into his mouth. And then his head fell to the ground, black enveloping him.


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part contains torture, so only read it if you're comfortable.

Sam gasped for air when he awoke, feeling as if he hadn’t breathed in years. It didn’t surprise him that he was still in the cage, nor the fact that his injuries from before had completely vanished. Whatever happened to him was some form of dying, and it totally sucked, especially since Lucifer would definitely take advantage of that.

Cold chains were wrapped, painfully, Sam might add, around his bare arms and legs, and a leather strap was around his neck. He struggled against his restraints, but to no avail. Sam laid his head back down, and that was when he spotted Lucifer, who was holding a syringe with an amused smile on his face.

His voice was awfully chipper when he said, “Good morning, Sammy.”

He struggled against his restraints as anger flared up in him. “I told you not to call me Sammy.”

“So you don’t like it when I call you that,” Lucifer said as he approached. “Well boo hoo.” Sam flinched when he reached out and touched his arm. It made him sick how gently Lucifer ran his fingers along his skin. Wasn’t the Devil supposed to hurt him? Well, Sam thought as he eyed the syringe, he had plans to. “This is almost ridiculous,” Lucifer said. “I mean, how’d you get your arms to be this muscular?”

“By hunting down evil sons of bitches like you,” Sam spat.

A gasp left him as the syringe was jabbed forcefully into his bicep, and then he closed his mouth, letting out a grunt of pain.

“What is that?” Sam asked, voice thick with fear.

His arm stung as Lucifer began injecting him with whatever the hell that was.

“Oh this?” he asked, sounding rather pleased with himself. “It’s just something to heighten your senses.” 

He got in real close before continuing, and Sam was once again privy to his fetid breath, “The more you scream, the more fun I have.”

Sam wished to yell for Lucifer to let him go, but he admitted defeat. It was impossible to escape any of this when Lucifer had him chained naked to a table, and he was hell bent on torturing him. Sam almost laughed when he thought of the phrase ‘hell bent’. As Lucifer walked away, Sam nearly did so, just to freak him out. The idea of laughing went out of his head when he picked up the knife from before off of a table of dark wood. And the blade was stained crimson with his blood.

Lucifer sighed in an almost peaceful manner as he observed the blood on the blade. “I’m so glad we’re finally getting started.” He twirled the blade around as he walked over, and Sam kept his eyes on it. However, his gaze switched to Lucifer when he began to push his hair back from his face with it. “Ooh, you’re looking at me,” Lucifer said. “And here I thought you were just going to look at this knife.” Then, as if to emphasize his words, he slashed it across Sam’s cheek, making him gasp as he turned away. Blood spilled from the wound, and his wince only made it worse as his muscles pulled at torn skin. Once again, Lucifer invaded his personal space, making Sam so uncomfortable. “How did that feel?” he asked. Then, he gave him an overdramatic pout. “Did I hurt poor wittle Sammy? Poor wittle, wittle Sammy.”

“Don’t-“ Sam began, but was cut off.

“-call you that?” Sam flinched with surprise when Lucifer tapped his nose with a finger. “Yes, I know you don’t like it, and that’s why I do it.”

He was relieved that Lucifer was now drawing away from him. Without him so close, Sam felt stronger, not as vulnerable. Though, the gaze Lucifer swept over him made his skin crawl. He swallowed roughly. “I’m going to find a way to kill you,” Sam told him, resolute. He would. Somehow, he would escape this prison, he would get the right weapon, come up with the right plan, and he would tear Lucifer’s throat out.

“Chills,” Lucifer said mockingly. He then decided to run the edge of the knife along Sam’s torso, making goose bumps rise up all over his body. His breaths quickened until he was sure he would hyperventilate. “I call you Sammy because it’s funny. Your anger amuses me, but more than that. What kind of nickname is that for a grown man? Well, overgrown in your case.”

“My brother gave it to me when we were little.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes as he nonchalantly dug the blade into Sam’s abdomen, making him scream. “I know,” he replied. “And you don’t let anyone else call you that. Is it because you love Dean so much? Maybe as more than a brother?”

His suggestion was beyond revolting, and Sam’s face probably showed what he thought about that.

“I’m joking! Jeez, Sammy, can’t you take a joke?” Lucifer responded as he ran the knife in a straight line up his chest. Sam kept switching back and forth between watching it and watching Lucifer. After slashing Sam one more time, the pain searing into him because of what he’d been injected with, Lucifer put the knife under his chin. “Don’t look at the knife, Sammy. Look at me. It’s not the knife that’s hurting you. It’s me.”

A muscle in Sam’s cheek twitched as he met Lucifer’s gaze. He tried to show him that despite the pain he was in, he was far from ready to break, if that was even what he wanted.

“I wish I could tell you to go to Hell,” Sam said in as powerful a voice as he could muster at the moment, “but we’re already here.”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked. Sam kept his mouth shut, knowing he wasn’t expecting an answer. 

After nicking his chin with the knife, the stinging pain joining the throb of the other wounds he received, Lucifer walked away, back to the table to put the knife down. Sam was worried about what he would grab next. He’d been tortured before, but never like this. Never by Satan. It was going to be difficult to hang on.

Lucifer took his time about selecting what to use on him next, and during that time, Sam focused on taking deep breaths. It wouldn’t be good if Lucifer had an easy time breaking him. He wasn’t sure who he was doing this for. Himself? Dean? 

No. He wanted Dean to live a life. To not try and save him from this.

 _Besides,_ Sam thought, _I deserve this._

The thought was surprisingly not too depressing. It made sense to him. He’d done so many horrible things in the past two years. He’d had more than his fill of demon blood. He’d slept with a demon for crying out loud! Sam’s thoughts betrayed him as he thought about Ruby because there was still a hint of desire in them. Desire for her body as much as her blood. It made him almost desire to be tortured by Lucifer. And he’d done much more than that. He’d betrayed Dean, and he’d gotten innocent people killed. Hell, he’d probably managed to fill the whole of Heaven by starting the apocalypse.

Though Sam hadn’t done the killing himself, he felt like he had. When he had killed Lilith with his mind he had doomed everyone, practically dug their graves for them. Lucifer, Dean’s suffering, the apocalypse… it was all his fault. So when Lucifer came over with a crude-looking silver spike, Sam almost smiled. His lips fought with the action to do so. He deserved this. He didn’t necessarily hate himself, but he almost saw it as proper justice for the things he’d done.

“What’s making you so expressive?” Lucifer asked.

“Nothing,” Sam replied as he looked away. If he liked it when he looked at him, then he would do his best to avoid that. So he looked at the fire that ringed the cage, pretended to be fascinated by its dancing orange light. 

Sam’s skin tingled unpleasantly when Lucifer caressed his shoulder, and he grimaced. He wanted to tell him to stop, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything. Seeming pleased with his reaction, or lack thereof, Lucifer leaned down and placed a kiss against his skin. Sam gritted his teeth, pretending to be unaffected. And then, unexpected agony flared through him. He jerked against his restraints, crying out as the spike stabbed through his shoulder, tearing through skin, muscle, and sinew, grinding through bone. Tears spilled down his cheeks unbidden, and the saltiness of them stung when it entered the wound on his cheek. The laugh Lucifer let out made everything so much worse.

He shook with pain as he turned his head towards him. His stomach churned when he saw the spike sticking out of his shoulder in his peripheral vision. 

The Devil clapped his hands together like he was a little kid. “Oh Sammy, what a great reaction! You’re really a good source of entertainment.”

A gasp left him when he reached down and pulled the spike from his shoulder. Warm blood poured from the hole that it left, no doubt staining the table. It made Sam sick as it ran across his skin. Another scream left him as Lucifer dug his finger into the wound. He groaned as he licked the blood from it with his horrid, forked tongue. And then, he held it up, a look of sickening glee on his face.

“We’ve got more blood, folks!” he announced to no one in particular. “Now the party’s really starting.” 

Fierce shivers gripped Sam’s body as shock began to set in. He was freezing. To make matters worse, Lucifer was now entertaining himself by moving the spike in and out of the wound he’d left, seeming amused that he could see it through both sides of his shoulder at once. He even laughed, making bile rise into Sam’s throat.

Though he seemed to be freezing, he also felt like he was burning. It was all too much, and eventually he yelled for Lucifer to stop. To his surprise, the Devil complied, and pulled the spike from him before tossing it down onto the table with the other torture devices.

Sam almost wished he hadn’t gotten his attention in such a way when he put a hand on either side of his head and made sure their faces were close. Despite his fear, Sam held his gaze, not wanting to back down.

“Is my brave warrior done already?” he asked tauntingly. “I hope not. I had so much planned for our first date.”

Sam grimaced at his last sentence. And then, despite the agony he was in, he challenged, “Do your worst.”

Satan smiled. “I’m so glad you said that.”


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. More torture. I had fun.

Time passed, and Sam spent it in excruciating pain, regretting the challenge he had given Lucifer. His life had surely bled out by now, but he was still there, chained to the table, very much conscious. Both his cheekbones had been stabbed into, but not as deeply as the time Lucifer had done it before out of anger. His knees had been shattered with a hammer, as well as his elbows. The crimson stumps that were the remainders of his fingers made his body dry heave until blood bubbled up into his mouth. Though Sam spit it out there was more to come. And Lucifer had pretended to take an almost childlike fascination with extracting each of the bones from his wrists, one at a time. After removing one, he would study it, dry it off on his shirt, study it some more, and then hold it up to Sam, asking what he thought of it. That brought more dry heaves, and more blood. When he saw Satan holding the largest bone that had been in his wrist a few seconds before, he heaved up so much blood that he thought he would surely choke on it. He actually wished that he would. Then he would stop feeling all of the pain that stabbed and burned through him. It was so agonizing that Sam found he couldn’t even scream. His breath would barely come to him, and tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Every once in a while, Lucifer stroked his cheeks, making him whimper. Admitting pain wasn’t against manliness, in his opinion, but it still felt degrading whenever one of those high-pitched noises left his throat. Maybe it was because the noise came from him more out of discomfort than anything else. Though the pain was terrifying, Lucifer’s occasional caress of his skin scared him even more. 

And now, Lucifer was playing a game of _This Little Piggy_ with his toes. His aching stomach clenched as he felt the way each toe was wiggled. He had a feeling how this would play out, and it was mortifying, and twisted. “This little piggy went to the market,” Lucifer said, grabbing each toe in turn as he recited the rhyme. “This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef. This little piggy had none.” After a rather dramatic pout directed at Sam, he grabbed his small toe, raising his knife in the other hand, and then he shouted, “This little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way home!” 

A deep soreness unlike anything he’d felt before becoming trapped in the cage registered in Sam’s senses. And just like that, his small toe was gone, and Lucifer was holding it up, his mouth open in deranged amusement. A fierce shaking took him again, and Lucifer resumed the game. 

The anticipation of this part was what made Sam start to lose his resolve. He didn’t know what it would be like when he broke, but somehow, he knew he still held together. Well, mentally, at least.

Lucifer kept up his gory game until Sam had no more toes left. He was in such terrible shock that it made his chest hurt immensely. He was sure that if he was still alive - though he didn’t know how anyone would be at this point in the world above - he’d have a heart attack. 

After calmly rising up from the crouch he had been in, Lucifer walked around the table slowly, making sure his footsteps were louder than before, more noticeable. The intimidation tactic worked, and Sam looked up at him. 

“Stop,” he whispered in a strangled voice.

His body tensed when Lucifer, without any warning, slashed across his chest, peeling away some skin, and then he grabbed it, before tugging. His back arched, and his restraints pressed bruises into him, as he let out a breathless cry. More blood entered his mouth when Lucifer dangled his torn, bleeding skin before his face.

“Do you think if I collect enough of this,” he asked, “that I could make a new shirt?”

Once again, that sent Sam’s body into a state of retching that actually made him choke. When he coughed the blood from his throat, he wished that he hadn’t. He wanted to continue choking on it so that he could die. At least for a while, so he could have a break and return healed, free of agony. 

He tossed his skin aside, and it made a revolting, wet, slapping sound as it hit the dark stone. 

“I’m kidding,” he said. 

He then set the knife to its place on the table, and when he returned he was holding something behind his back. “I have a surprise for you, Sammy.” After seconds passed in which Sam didn’t respond he ordered, “Come on, ask me what it is.”

“Go shove a knife up your ass,” Sam managed to get out; it was a painful effort to do so, but the genuine look of hurt on Lucifer’s face made it worth it.

“Oh Sam, and here I thought we were bonding.”

Sam ignored the comment, which surprisingly didn’t earn him any punishment. Instead, Lucifer sighed and _tsked_ as he looked him over. He then drew a lighter from behind his back, waving it around before opening it and flicking it on. Sam stared at the little flame.

Lucifer shrugged. “I mean, we’re in Hell, so you might as well burn.”

After going back to the table to retrieve a red canister of gasoline, Lucifer began to pour it all over him. “Oh, Sammy, I can’t wait till you’re on fire,” he said. “You’ll scream for me, right? I really want you to.”

Sam, in too much fear from the gasoline now running over his body, said nothing. It stung viciously when it entered his open wounds. It took everything in him to remain silent. Some of it was splashed on his face, making its way into his mouth and nose. He sputtered as he tried to blink it from his eyes, and then he shook his head, trying to get more of it off of him. What that earned him was Lucifer holding his head down while he poured more of it on his face. By the time he seemed satisfied, Sam was gasping and choking for air. The rank scent filled his nose, and it took much of his strength to catch his breath. 

The canister was now empty, and Lucifer tossed it aside, letting it clank to the ground. He held the lighter out again, making sure it was lit.

“Enjoy,” he said before bringing it to his skin. 

He lit up instantly because of all the gasoline on him. It took a few seconds for the heat and the pain to register, but when it did it was fierce, and it just kept growing worse. At first, Sam gritted his teeth, determined to not scream. Through the fire that danced in his eyes he could see Lucifer standing beside the table, his arms folded across his chest as he smiled. 

The fire was a loud roaring in his ears, crackling and popping as it consumed his flesh. The deafening sound, and the burning agony wasn’t the worst part of it. No, the worst part of it was the smell. As he burned, Sam could smell it, like someone had left meat on the grill for too long. It made him so sick to know that smell was from his own burning flesh. 

More and more pain consumed him, and the fire became all he knew. There was nothing else anymore. No Lucifer. No prison. No world above that he had left behind. No Dean. There was just the fire. 

And then, amidst all the red and orange of the flames, Sam found darkness, and he sank into it, feeling peaceful that he was finally escaping this torment. In the state he was in, he couldn’t quite remember that his torment was far from over.


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, what happens in this chapter between Lucifer and Sam is non-consensual. I feel like I have to state this because it's not overtly obvious that what happens in unwanted by Sam.

This time when Sam woke up he didn’t seem to be in the prison. He knew he still was, though. Of course he was. This was Lucifer’s prison. There was no escaping. With a sinking feeling, Sam realized that it wasn’t just Lucifer’s prison anymore. It was _their_ prison. But, if this was their prison, then where was he?

The room around him did not look like the cage, surrounded by fire, and the void. Instead, he was in a large dining room with fancy hardwood paneling on the walls, tinted a darker color than the floor. The table seemed to be made of dark oak. It was so dark, in fact, that it appeared black. Sam could see his reflection in its shiny surface. He sat near the end of the table, farther away from a set of double doors that were ironically carved with Devil’s Traps. He looked up and took note of the chandelier hanging above the table, keeping the room brightly lit, though instead of lamps with electricity, there were lit candles sitting in sconces. Odd.

Feeling different than when he’d woken up (or whatever it was) the other times, Sam looked down at himself.

“Why am I in a tux?” he asked quietly. He was most definitely in a tux, and a stark white one, of all things. 

_Great, because this wasn’t ironic enough as it is._

He pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet when a voice – a now very familiar voice – answered him, “Because I want to have dinner with you.”

Lucifer had appeared in the velvet-lined seat across from him, wearing a tux of his own. Though, instead of all the white, the jacket was black, and his pants most likely were as well. The crimson of his tie served as a reminder of the suffering he’d already experienced at this dark angel’s hands. 

Sam balled his hands into fists, already feeling his heartbeat begin to accelerate with fear. His instincts screamed for him to run, but they were confused at the same time. Most human souls never had to go through this; endless torment exacted by the Devil himself. It made him unsure. He suffered, yes, but he always came back. As terrible as it was, it was also a relief. The pain hadn’t yet made him wish to stop existing, so for now, he supposed he could sit down and have dinner with Satan.

He took deep breaths and calmed himself enough to take a seat.

“I should be honored,” he joked, not quite looking at him. It was difficult to do that. This man had seen him weak and vulnerable, had hurt him, had watched him burn. 

“Not everyone is special enough to have dinner with me,” Lucifer agreed, “but you on the other hand, you are just something else.”

Sam eyed him expectantly through the hair that had fallen in front of his face. “So, where’s the food?” he asked.

At the snap of his fingers, food appeared before the both of them. Steak dripping with a brown sauce, a baked potato already cut open and stuffed with butter and cheese, green beans, a buttered roll of bread. A wine glass held a red substance that in any other place Sam would think, without a doubt, was wine. Even without holding it up to his nose he could smell what it was. Demon blood.

He grabbed the glass, and held it out. “How did you get this stuff?” he asked.

Lucifer grabbed his own glass of demon blood and took a sip. He savored it before answering, “It’s not too difficult, really. All I have to do is trick some pathetic demon into stepping inside this prison. Then, well, you know the rest.” He gave Sam a smile that made his skin crawl. 

To Sam’s utmost surprise, his stomach growled with hunger. He looked down at his abdomen with a frown. 

“Right, you probably weren’t expecting that,” Lucifer began. “As you know, Sammy, this is my prison, which means, I can do with it what I wish. If I want there to be a fancy dining room for a dinner date with my vessel, then there it is, decorations and all. If I want to dress you up in a tux, I have one to do so, and since this is a dinner date, I want you to be hungry.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise, though he was really very freaked out about this revelation. “So you did all this just to what, impress me?” 

As Lucifer picked up his silverware (Sam flinched when he grabbed the knife) and began to dig into his meal, he answered, “I don’t have to. You already know what I’m capable of, Sam. This,” he waved his fork in the air, gesturing around the room, “is simply a reminder.”

Watching Lucifer doing something as normal as eating disturbed him, but it also bothered him to see him cutting into his steak. It reminded him of Lucifer using a different knife to tear through flesh and bone. After a shudder, Sam pushed his chair in more, picked up his silverware and began to eat. It was easier than he thought it would be to eat. Though the hair on the back of his neck stood on end just from being in Lucifer’s presence, he really was hungry. Why he was hungry was just wrong, but now not even being disgusted could make him lose his appetite. 

The food was surprisingly good, but it didn’t interest him as much as the contents of the glass. Still, he tried to have self-control. He didn’t want to completely lose it in front of Lucifer. That would be degrading. 

As they ate, Lucifer remained quiet, and when Sam looked across at him he seemed thoughtful. Though, the look he gave him whenever he took a sip from his glass unnerved him. It made Sam look at his own glass, which he’d still left untouched. It took a great deal of willpower to do that, especially when he could smell the aromatic scent drifting from it. 

He swallowed roughly as he observed it, wanting nothing more than to reach out and down it. As he clenched his jaw, he felt a muscle in his face twitch.

“Come on, Sammy. Have a sip.”

“I think I’ll just finish my meal,” Sam said, about to cut off a piece of steak. But then, the plate and the food vanished; along with the silverware he had been holding. The glass was now right in front of him.

“I told you to drink it, so you’re going to drink it.”

He looked into the glass, eyeing the thick, crimson liquid. Knowing it was demon blood made it look delicious to him. And it was more than delicious. It was intoxicating, addicting, powerful. Every cell in his body seemed to crave it. 

_How bad can one sip be?_ he thought. _I’m in Hell. Sinning is the social norm around here._

Despite his thoughts he was still hesitant because he didn’t want to do anything Lucifer said. Earlier, Lucifer had called him his bitch, and that was something he did not want to be. 

Sam could hear his blood pumping in his ears as he tried to resist the temptation. 

When he spoke, he could barely hear his own voice, the demon blood capturing most of his focus, “I’m not going to be your bitch.”

Suddenly, Lucifer was behind him, and he grabbed his hair to tug his head back. Their eyes met. 

“You should be jumping to do what I say,” he snarled. “You, Sam, belong to me, so if I tell you to drink that demon blood, _you drink it_.” 

With that, he released him, and then walked leisurely around the table to his seat. Sam glared at him the whole time. And meanwhile, the temptation to drink the demon blood grew, nearly pounding through him till it felt like he would shatter to pieces. But there was still that one thing stopping him. To drink it would be to do what Lucifer wanted. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Don’t make me force-feed you,” Lucifer threatened.

“Why is this so important to you?” Sam asked. “It’s not like I’ll become some superhuman psychic because of it. I’m dead, if you haven’t noticed, so I don’t really see the perks of this anymore.”

Lucifer leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. The look in his eyes was frighteningly earnest as he answered, “It’s important to me because I know you like it. I know it pleases you. I want to make you happy, Sam.”

Sam laughed at that. “You’ve done a great job, then. Cutting me apart, setting me on fire… best thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know why no one else is getting in line to be your plaything.”

Angrily, Lucifer smacked the table, making Sam jump. “You’re going to drink that demon blood even if I have to shove it down your throat.”

Sam, feeling rather smug that he had gotten Lucifer angry yet again, just sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Go ahead.” 

They locked gazes, and Sam did his best to not blink or look away. To do so would be to admit defeat. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Lucifer leaned back in his chair, pointing at him as a smile of amusement alit his face. 

“You’re baiting me,” he said, and then he lowered his voice before continuing, “I like it.” As if Lucifer wanted to make that comment even worse he winked at him! Sam was appalled by it. It must’ve shown on his face because Lucifer went on, “Don’t act so surprised, Sammy. I know you can feel it. We’re two halves of a whole.” As Sam shook his head he countered him with, “Yes.”

Having had more than enough Lucifer to deal with for now, Sam got up and made to leave. He gritted his teeth as Lucifer appeared before him, blocking the doors. He tilted his head, lips turned downwards in a little pout. “Where do you think you’re going, bunk buddy?”

That gave Sam pause. “ _Bunk buddy?_ ”

“Oh? I didn’t tell you? We’re sharing a bed tonight, and all the other nights you’re in here.” As he came towards him he found that he couldn’t move, fear freezing him in place. And Sam closed his eyes when he stroked a hand across his cheek, and then through his hair. It was too difficult to look at Lucifer as he touched him like this. His voice was soft when he spoke, and the sincere emotion in it made Sam’s eyes sting with unshed tears, “We’ll finally get to be together in the way we’re meant to.”

Sam found the courage to pull back, and he snapped at him, “We’re not meant to be together in any way.”

Lucifer began walking towards him slowly, making Sam step back. “Poor, stupid Sam. Of course we are. It’s the reason you’re my vessel. We’re two halves of a whole, Sammy. Two halves… of a whole.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I? Hm. I don’t recall ever being told I’m delusional before. Huh, interesting.”

Sam was very aware of the distance between him and the wall behind him closing with each step. There was nothing else he could think to do but back away. Anything to stay away from Lucifer as long as possible. The tears that threatened to spill free made him feel weak in Lucifer’s presence, and it made him even more terrified. There was one word in his head that he knew was correct for describing what Lucifer was going to do to him, but he didn’t want to think it. Such a word had always left a bad taste in his mouth, and thinking of it in respects to him was mortifying. It was something he never thought would happen. And now, he was going to get backed up against a wall by Lucifer, who had a disturbing idea of the true nature of their relationship. Sam really couldn’t tell if Lucifer was actually delusional. He seemed to believe every word he was saying. He seemed more than interested in Sam in that way. There’d always been that undertone when they’d spoken before, but he’d never been so outright with it. 

There was nothing he could say as he was forced to back up against the wall. When he felt the hard wooden surface against his back it became difficult to breathe, his chest tightening. He flinched at the deliberate taps of Lucifer’s shoes against the floor and turned away, closing his eyes. Maybe he could convince himself this wasn’t real.

That was made impossible when Lucifer put a hand on either side of his head, closing him in, and he pressed himself up against him. Sam felt like he was going to throw up, and heat washed through him, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. 

“It’s alright, Sam,” Lucifer cooed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be good to you. I promise.” When Sam said nothing, only let out a terrified whimper, Lucifer said, “Come on, doesn’t this feel right?”

Sam was able to hold his tears back right up until Satan kissed him. Sam pushed at him, fighting to get away. His lips were cold, nearly to the point of stinging, and they were rough and unwelcome. 

He was gasping when Lucifer finally pulled away. He managed to get out, “No… none of this… could ever… feel right.”

“It’s really hot with you gasping for air like that, but I see you’re not convinced. Let’s try something else.” 

He leaned away from him, which was a small relief, and he pulled his hand back, looking ready to hold something. And then, he was. The glass of demon’s blood was now in his hand. He eyed Sam pointedly as he drank from it. It took every effort to not wrest the glass from him so he could have some of the demon’s blood for himself. Without really noticing what he was doing, Sam tilted his head down towards the glass, his mouth open. Lucifer moved it out of his reach. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth was full. Sam nearly growled at him. He needed that demon blood. 

To his dismay the glass disappeared, most likely back to the table. Before he could react, Lucifer was kissing him again, but this time, he opened his mouth, letting the demon’s blood pour into Sam’s. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he greedily accepted it. At the moment he didn’t care who he was getting the demon’s blood from, or in what way. All that mattered was the sweet, intoxicating liquid that was filling his mouth. Demon’s blood was about more than just the taste. It was so much more thrilling than that. As he drank from Lucifer’s mouth he felt new life flood through him, heightening his senses, strengthening his body. His mind kicked into overdrive, and the demon’s blood became more than just something he was drinking. It became part of him, pumping through his veins as it was meant to.

When his reserve ran dry he pulled back. It took a few seconds to realize what he had just done, and when he did, he felt on the verge of puking all the demon blood back up. Lucifer was smiling, his lips tinted red. When had he put a hand in his hair? Sam tried to shrug him off of him, but his grip remained firm. 

“That’s what I’m talking about, Sam; _that_ right there. True hunger like that is dangerous if left untamed. You feed it, it grows. You leave it alone, it grows. I mean, it eventually diminishes, but it doesn’t truly leave. It’s still there, gnawing away at you. I know you know what I’m talking about. All that time you went without demon’s blood… Wow, it must have been dreadful. But now I’m here, and I’m going to give you everything you could ever want.”

“Then give me the blood and leave me alone.”

Lucifer stroked his other hand through his hair as he told him, “You know I can’t do that. What kind of soul mate would I be if I left you all by yourself?”

“You’re not my soul mate,” Sam snapped at him, feeling slightly victorious when some demon blood not yet consumed by him splattered onto his face. 

Lucifer wiped it away, hardly looking offended. In fact, he licked it from his fingers. 

“That’s some good stuff, Sammy. Why don’t we have some more?”

He held his head back with one hand, but Sam was ashamed to say that he didn’t fight him, and instead opened his mouth as Lucifer poured the demon blood into him. Sam swallowed it eagerly as he watched Lucifer have a sip for himself. Angered by the fact that he didn’t have more, he reached for the glass, but like before, it was no longer there. And the only way he could possibly get the demon’s blood now was to use Lucifer. So he did. All thoughts of what he was truly doing left him as he grabbed Lucifer’s face, letting his tongue dip into his mouth to get at the demon’s blood he hadn’t yet swallowed. Once again, a rush of power shot through him. It was beyond exhilarating. 

He found himself completely unaware of everything but the demon blood, and what he had to do to get it. This continued, Lucifer pouring it into both their mouths and then Sam greedily attempting to consume all of it. 

He was shocked out of his high when Lucifer threw the now-empty glass down onto the floor where it shattered. It took a few seconds to truly realize all that had transpired, and when it hit him, Sam crumpled against the wall, his knees weak as his stomach churned and tears rolled down his cheeks. Lucifer backed away, allowing him to slide down to the floor, where he sat, hugging his knees to his chest. 

_What have I done?_

The taste of the demon’s blood was still in his mouth, but it was not so succulent anymore. It only reminded him of Lucifer’s lips against his own. A heavy wave of shame swept through him that made him want to hide. How could he have gotten so out of control? Sam had made out with the Devil for demon’s blood.

Lucifer crouched down to get on the same level as him. “Don’t cry, Sam. It’s alright.”

Through his tears Lucifer appeared blurry, but he swore that the look of sympathy on his face was real. It made him want to curl into a ball, and never see him again. Never see anyone again. The shame ran so deeply that it hurt. And worse, he was disgusted with himself. Dean was right. He was a monster. A freak. 

“P-p-please… just-just leave me a-alone.”

“Sorry, Sunshine, I’m never leaving you alone again.”

Sam let out a distressed scream at Lucifer’s words, and then covered his face with his hands, sobs racking his body. His heart beat too quickly when he felt Lucifer’s hand on his back, gently rubbing. It ran upward to grip the back of his neck. Sam’s sobs abruptly stopped, and his skin crawled. Lucifer started pulling him up to stand, not having a hard time at all due to his angel strength.

“Come on, Sammy. Let’s get you to bed.”

Outraged from yet again being called Sammy by the Devil, and wanting to avoid being violated in any way, shape, or form, Sam struck out. He punched Lucifer soundly in the nose, and he heard several snaps as bones broke. 

He was very pleased when he stood and saw Lucifer on the ground. From what he could see, the broken bones from his nose had stabbed into his brain; his now-bloodied face was all misshapen.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he growled at him, hoping he now felt the gravity of his words. The punch should’ve helped with that. 

To his dismay, cold laughter met his ears, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Lucifer started rising to his feet, and as he did so Sam watched in horror as his face began to reconstruct itself; the bones moving forward, dislodging themselves from his brain. When his nose was nearly back to the way it had been before, the blood stopped coming. Sam knew such a thing wouldn’t have killed him, but god, he wished it had. Lucifer got to his feet and Sam prepared himself to continue fighting, tensing his muscles in just the right way to brace against any attack while not compromising his agility.

The walls started fading around him, peeling like paint. He looked around, eyes wide in fear. What was happening? The entire area around him was changing, revealing where he truly was. The cage. Sam looked down at his feet, and he was standing on the black rock again. 

“See?” Lucifer asked. “We still really are in my prison. Well, it’s our prison now, isn’t it?” He took a step closer, prompting Sam to take a step back.

“Stay away from me,” he warned.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “This again? We’ve been over this. _You_ ,” he said, pointing at him, “belong to _me_.” He ended the sentence by pointing a finger at himself. “Therefore, I get to do whatever I want. I can maim you, stab you, slice into you, rip your skin off, take out your bones to have a closer look at them, burn you to a crisp, dress you up, have dinner with you, get you to make out with me – which I must say, was rather impressive – and _anything_ I feel like. You aren’t just my vessel, Sam. Not anymore. You became mine the moment you said yes. And do you know what yes means? It means you wanted this. You asked for this.”

Sam shook his head. “I _never_ consented to being humiliated, tortured, and violated.”

“How stupid are you? Of course you did. I’m Satan! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? That we were going to pick flowers and have a tea party? That I’d braid your hair and we’d share secrets like little girls at a sleepover? No. I’m going to defile you to the best of my ability because, guess what, I want to.”

“You…” Sam began, but then found he had no words to go on. It was impossible to describe the amount of disgust, fear, and hatred he felt for this fallen angel. 

Lucifer leaned forward, “Are disgusting? Horrible? Abhorrent? Go on, Sammy. I would love to hear what you think of me.”

Sam clenched his jaw and turned away. 

“So if this little rebellious streak is settling down for now, how about I help get you ready for bed?”

He stepped forward again, and Sam instantly stiffened, backing all the way up to the bars of the cage, even till they pressed into him uncomfortably. He stared at Lucifer with wide eyes.

In an attempt to distract him, Sam inquired, “What bed?”

With a snap of fingers a large bed with a blood-red comforter appeared behind him, and he raised his eyebrows, as if asking Sam to be impressed. Sam could only stare as his heart climbed up into his throat. In fact, he forgot to pay attention to Lucifer until he was right in front of him. Sam jumped when he felt his hand grip his jacket, and he turned to him.

He _tsk_ ed. “Can’t wear a tux in bed, Sammy. That’s practically uncivilized, and also, rather uncomfortable, if you ask me. Let’s say we get you out of these clothes, hm?”

Despite the urge to fight back as Sam had felt earlier he now found himself completely frozen in fear. He shuddered as Lucifer removed his jacket, and then began to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he finished with that, Lucifer ran a hand down his chest, making his skin crawl, and causing sweat to trickle down the sides of his face.

“What’s wrong, Sammy? You nervous?”

“P-please…” he stuttered, entirely at a loss for words.

“Don’t worry. Once we get started this’ll feel right. You’ll see. Like I said, we’re meant to be together.”

When Lucifer began to take his shirt off, Sam pushed at his chest, shoving him away, and he walked to the other side of the cage. If he couldn’t stop this from happening, he could at least delay it. Still, the inevitable made him sick to his stomach. 

He hadn’t thought of Michael in a while, but suddenly, he wished that Michael would show up. Put an end to this by being an audience. Maybe Lucifer would have the decency to not violate him with Michael watching. Then again, Michael might be pleased by it. He probably thought Sam deserved it for getting them all in here. 

Thoughts of Michael coming to the rescue were dashed out of his mind. Rather, Sam felt sickened even more by the fact that Michael would most likely enjoy watching him get raped by the Devil.

He jumped when he felt Lucifer press himself up against him, and his hands went around him to do a take two on removing his shirt. Sam clawed at his hands, hoping he’d let go, but the pain didn’t seem to do anything to Lucifer. Rather, he groaned in some twisted form of approval.

“Do that again, Sam,” he breathed. “Let’s really get into this.”

A chill swept through Sam as Lucifer managed to get his shirt off. He felt so much more exposed without it, and it felt so far away, unreachable where it lay behind him at their feet. 

Lucifer wrapped his arms around him, and pressed the side of his face against his bare back. He skin was icy cold to the touch, and it made him shudder. He grabbed at his wrists, trying to get him to let go, but this dark angel had more than enough strength to remain unaffected by Sam’s efforts. It made him cry out in frustration. 

One hand traveled down to his abdomen, making him breathe quickly, nearly gasping for air. 

“No!” Sam cried, backing away forcefully and turning so that Lucifer was slammed backwards against the cage. It made him let go, and Sam stumbled before running clear to the other side, skirting around the bed; just looking at it disturbed him. 

“Fine,” Lucifer said as he approached Sam slowly, hands out in a gesture of peace. “Not tonight, okay? Just at least let me get you comfortable.”

“Lucifer, you taking my clothes off is a far cry from comfortable. I’d rather be torn limb from limb.”

“That can be arranged, but later. For now, I just want you to get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to sleep lying next to you?”

“Am I really that despicable?” Sam gave him a twisted smile as an answer, tilting his head as he did so. Lucifer simply nodded. “I see. Well, you’re not making this easy for yourself, Sam.”

Sam frowned as he watched Lucifer pull out a knife that had previously been hidden inside his suit jacket. He eyed it thoughtfully before approaching, looking purposeful. 

“Lucifer, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t obvious? I’m going to kill you, let your soul go for a little walk, and when it comes back you’ll be in bed, all comfortable with me.”

In a flash, Lucifer was right in front of him, and the knife slit his throat. Sam barely had any time to feel pain, or even fear, as the life drained out of him.


	7. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture, torture, torture! Some torture here, a little torture there! So yeah, basically, if you're uncomfortable with torture, though I doubt you are since you read this far, be wary of this part.

Waking up was an unpleasant experience because Sam remembered what Satan had said he would do. And he was true to his word. The heat of revulsion swept through him when he became very aware of his nudity, and his skin prickled uncomfortably. There was something around his wrist, and when he yanked at it he felt the familiar cold metal of a handcuff. Since it was cold that meant he hadn’t been handcuffed too long. Sam’s eyes once again became accustomed to the dim light in the cage, and he followed the chain that the handcuff was connected to. It went down till it joined with another handcuff that was closed tightly against one of the bedposts. Sam leaned back and let out a groan. Lucifer couldn’t be serious.

He jumped when he heard his voice, “Glad you’re up, Sammy.”

Without looking at him he replied in a tight voice, “I suppose there’s no use in telling you to shut the hell up.”

Sam tilted his head to the left to look at Lucifer as he began to run a finger along his chest. His touch felt cold, and he shivered. 

“Nope,” he told him.

“And there’s also no point in telling you to not touch me, either.”

Lucifer laughed. “Guess you’re not as stupid as I thought.”

He rested his head back against the pillow, trying to be as comfortable as possible with Lucifer touching him (not an easy thing to do), and he looked to the bars above his head. A tear slid down his face at the realization that this was his home now. Not just Hell, but this cage that he shared with Lucifer. Dean’s Hell had been bad from what he’d heard of it, but it wasn’t this. In a way, Sam was grateful to be Lucifer’s vessel. He’d never wish this on Dean. He’d rather endure everything, all the pain and fear, than let anything like this happen to him. Dean was probably strong enough to handle it, but it was satisfying to know that he would never have to. Those thoughts made Sam feel a little braver as Lucifer trailed his hand down to his stomach and rested his head against his shoulder. He turned away, not wanting to have to look at him. Besides, it didn’t help to remind himself that he wasn’t the only naked one in the bed.

Lucifer’s lips found his ear, and he cringed. Oh god, he was so cold; goosebumps were rising up all over his body. 

“What’s wrong, bunk buddy? Are you cold? Let’s say we get you warmed up.”

“That’ll be difficult when you burn cold, remember?”

“I find that some contact in the right places can make people heat up like you wouldn’t believe.”

“ _Don’t. Touch me_ ,” Sam said through gritted teeth, hoping he sounded threatening. 

He swallowed roughly when Lucifer brought his hand lower, to his pelvis, teasing him with fear. “Too late, bunk buddy,” he whispered.

That was it. He had to escape this somehow. Sam leaped from the bed, not caring that Lucifer was getting an eyeful; he’d already seen it all. He stumbled away, getting as far as he could while being restrained by the handcuffs and the chain. It wasn’t far enough away. Sam didn’t even think he’d consider being on Earth as far enough away. He’d already gone through too much.

Lucifer calmly rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. He seemed to be observing him, just waiting to see what he did next. If only Sam knew. He felt so exposed just standing there, Lucifer’s gaze wandering over him. 

“So you’re more comfortable over there, bunk buddy? Okay.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. Lucifer was just lying there, not doing anything. In fact, he even yawned, and blinked tiredly. Now that Sam thought of it, he was feeling tired himself. Very tired. The empty spot on the bed looked very comfortable if Lucifer was removed from the picture. Knowing that wasn’t going to happen soon, and not being able to think of anything else to do, Sam laid down on the ground, feeling the uncomfortable, rough surface of the rock against his bare skin. Well, it was better than lying next to Lucifer. The chain pulled at his wrist in a painful way, but Sam wasn’t about to get any closer to him. He wished he could face the other way, but at the same time, it was a good idea to keep an eye on Lucifer.

 _What are you going to do if he does try something, Sam?_ he asked himself. _There’s no fighting the Devil._

“Comfortable?” Lucifer asked.

Sam simply grunted, not wanting to say anything to him.

“Okay, sorry I asked,” Lucifer responded. “Just trying to be friendly.”

Sam found himself laughing at the irony of his statement. “Yeah? Then I suppose you’re too stupid to know what the word actually means. Unless the definition of friendly involves torture I think you have some reading up to do.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Sam instantly regretted them. They wouldn’t offend Lucifer. If anything, he’d find some way to twist his attitude into some shape that fit into his idea of their relationship. And he did. 

“Ooh, Sam. Getting sassy. Keep that up and I might just join you on the floor over there. Besides, it’s not a rule that a bed is required for getting down and dirty.”

Sam shifted, trying to get as comfortable as possible on the hard ground. With each second it seemed to become rougher and more unbearable, and the cold was seeping into him. He told himself it didn’t matter. It was better than the bed since he was being left alone. With a dreary sigh, Sam closed his eyes. 

He seemed to drift on the edges of unconsciousness, and he wasn’t even sure if Lucifer was watching him anymore. Sometimes when he opened his eyes to look he thought that maybe he was asleep. He couldn’t be sure because drowsiness took him again. It was a while before he truly slept, and when he did, he dreamt of fire and blood, and Lucifer laughing as he screamed. When he wasn’t caught in his tumultuous dreams, he lay half awake, his body aching from the stone he lay on. Trying to get in a comfortable position just made it worse because the whole left side of his body throbbed with each movement. For a while he did attempt to sleep on his back, but that left him even sorer. However, he became too exhausted to even move, and his body didn’t seem to want to. Not even his mind seemed to want to. His thoughts were muddy, and fear could barely reach him. Hours and hours passed like this, until eventually, Sam woke up for good, feeling very far from refreshed. And what had awoken him was even worse than the nightmares because it was real. Lucifer, now dressed, was right in his face, staring intently. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked Sam when he realized he was awake.

“Like a baby,” he replied with as much acid as possible.

“Great!” he exclaimed, straightening and rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Then we can get started.”

Sam sat up with a groan, movement making him acutely aware of the pain that racked his body. In a moment of weakness he almost wished that Lucifer would kill him so that he could start from a fresh slate. That feeling quickly passed, and he shook himself awake, even going so far as to rise to his feet. 

“Any chance that you could find me some clothes?” Sam asked him. 

Lucifer adamantly shook his head. “I like you, Sam. Why hide your…” he paused to look him over with a penetrating gaze that seemed to travel even further than his skin, “firm, muscular body underneath all that?”

“Maybe because some people actually have a sense of decency.”

Lucifer gave a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes. “It’s not indecent, Sammy, because I already know your body, remember?” He stepped forward before continuing, “I rode around in it. I killed using your very hands. Remember how that felt? That felt good, didn’t it?”

Being reminded of the awful things Lucifer had used his body for made his throat ache as tears threatened to spill free. He just shook his head, and looked down in shame. Part of it had felt good. Really good. Watching the life leave someone’s eyes as he snapped their neck, cutting their screams short. In those moments he had felt powerful, and free. He hadn’t been restrained by morals, by anything. 

Lucifer put a hand under his chin and lifted his head up to have him look at him. 

“If you want, Sammy, I can coax a demon in here just for you.”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s not like killing a demon is a bad thing. They’re demons, and if you ask me, there’s way too much of them here. So why not get your bloodlust out? And I mean that figuratively, and literally. They can be all yours. You can bleed them dry, and drink your fill. Come on, doesn’t that sound fun?”

It did sound fun. But Sam knew that he shouldn’t do it. Just because they were demons it didn’t mean that he could kill them for entertainment. Whenever he’d killed them before it’d been mostly because he had to. There were the rare occasions where it was for their blood, but at the time, even that had felt like a necessity. What Lucifer was implying was wrong. Killing for the joy of it was wrong. 

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Sam told him.

Lucifer stepped back, and he even threw his hands up. He seemed exasperated. “Really? This again? There’s no righteousness in staying your hand, Sam. They’re vermin. They’re worse than humans. They are what the lowest of the low become after death. Come on! It’ll feel good to kill them. I can see that you want to.”

“Just because I want to doesn’t mean I should,” Sam justified.

“Don’t you even want something to drink with your breakfast?”

“I prefer milk, thank you very much,” Sam said sarcastically.

“You know what? Fine. We can just skip breakfast all together. Let’s just get started with stringing you up on some hooks.”

Instantly, the bed disappeared, along with the handcuffs and the chain. Rather, the cage was now decorated with cruel-looking hooks hanging from chains that were connected to the top bars. They encompassed the room, and the metal gleamed in the light of the fire around their prison. Sam looked around in a panic. Was Lucifer planning on tearing him apart with them?

“Good morning!” Lucifer sang, spreading his arms out. “I can see that you’re really awake now.”

Sam, still eyeing the hooks, responded, “That’s one way to put it.”

Lucifer clapped his hands together as he approached. “So, bunk buddy, you just go stand in the middle of the room there, and let me do my thing.”

Before, Sam had actually been planning on cooperating. It’d make it easier for himself, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid this torture, but now that Lucifer wanted him to do just that, it was the last thing he was going to do.

“Make me,” Sam challenged, looking into the dull blue of his eyes. 

He tapped his chin with a finger as he walked around him. “Interesting. You don’t feel like doing what I say even though you know you can’t escape this, and now you actually seem to be trying to get me worked up.”

Sam turned around to face him. Besides, he felt better being around Lucifer when he could see what he was doing. It felt good to be as defiant as possible. It made him feel like he still had a choice about things, like he wasn’t just the Devil’s plaything. He had a choice about how he responded to all the torture, and the disturbing words that left his mouth. This made him feel like he had some power while being trapped in a cage with Lucifer. Yes, this would most likely make Lucifer dole out more pain than he’d originally intended, but in Sam’s mind it was worth it. Just because the Devil had called him his bitch it didn’t mean that he was just yet. So now felt like a good time to ignore what he had said to him, and to insult him.

He held his head high, and asked in as arrogant a tone as possible, “Why are you procrastinating? Scared, Luci?”

At that, Lucifer instantly grabbed his face and pushed him backwards. Sam gasped in pain as a hook impaled itself into his lower back. The dull blue of Lucifer’s eyes seemed to have turned icy, dangerous.

“ _Gabriel_ called me Luci, you insolent cockroach. Do not address me as such.”

Despite the sharp pain that lanced through his body, Sam looked down at Lucifer with false pity. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that, Luci.” That made Lucifer release an angry growl, and he grabbed a hook and stabbed it into his shoulder, blood spurting from the force of it. Sam arched his back at the pain, and screamed. But still, he managed to laugh. “How about you don’t call me Sammy, and I won’t call you Luci.”

At that, Lucifer yanked the chain that was connected to the hook in his shoulder, tearing a chunk of his flesh out with it. Sam’s scream was much louder this time, and he fell to his knees, causing the hook in his back to rip out flesh as well. It left him in tears. He tried to get his bearings before Lucifer could do something else to him, but to no avail. He grabbed his face, squeezing painfully. Once again, his putrid breath assaulted his nostrils as he got real close and spoke to him in a threatening voice, “I don’t think so, Sammy.” And then, there was the jangling of chains and another hook was in him, this time, right between his shoulders. Lucifer laughed as he screamed. 

When he got used to the pain, his screams quieted and he remained there, kneeling as he tried to catch his breath. The waves of blood that seemed to pour from his wounds sickened him. 

After gathering his strength, he looked up at Lucifer, and smiled. Lucifer seemed taken back by it, which was just what Sam wanted. “Is that all you got… _Luci_?”

That earned him a hook in his thigh. When he quieted down, Lucifer asked, “Do you know what I did to Gabriel? You don’t, do you? You left before all the fun began.”

Sam’s mind flashed back to the hotel with all the gods, Gabriel making an appearance, trying to save Sam and Dean. He’d even gotten a message to them about the Horsemen’s rings. Lucifer had shown up, killed everyone in sight. But, Sam hadn’t seen what had happened to Gabriel. He’d assumed he’d escaped somehow. He always did. He wasn’t just a trickster. He was the master of tricks, the creator of the personage of Loki, the Norse god of mischief. Surely he’d gotten away safely. Now he thought otherwise. What had Lucifer done to him, his own brother?

He continued, “I killed him, with his own angel blade. I could’ve ripped out his heart if I wanted to, but I didn’t. Now-“ he put a hand on his chest, his nails digging into his skin around where his heart would be, “I feel like doing that to you.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Sam questioned in a trembling voice, the pain making it so difficult to think of ways to keep aggravating him.

Sam’s breath was stolen when a new type of pain assaulted his body, something he’d never felt before. Lucifer had somehow dug his nails through his skin, and now his fingers were pressing into him, tearing through muscle. Cold panic flashed through him, and his heart was beating incredibly fast. It was like it knew that it was in danger, that something was getting closer to it.

“Nice rhythm you got going there, Sammy. Don’t worry. I won’t stop it just yet. I thought I’d show you what happens when you get me riled up. Not too fun, is it?”

Sam laughed through the agony. “Are you kidding? Everyone should be lining up to get a taste of this.”

Lucifer removed his hand, allowing the blood to stream down Sam’s torso. The dark red that coated his skin already seemed to be normal to him, and this was only day two of his torture. Lucifer flexed his bloodied hand. 

“You’re a tough nut to crack,” he told Sam, “but I have other things to try. Lot’s of things. That’ll be for later, though, I’m not done with these hooks yet.”

He smiled at him, and then Sam became victim to Lucifer and his hooks.


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, guys? TORTURE! And Lucifer singing.

Somehow, Lucifer had managed to make the torture with the hooks last all day. Sam was barely held together at this point, he no longer had a voice with which to scream, and his tears had run dry. His body was even too exhausted to shake as pain racked through him, making him unaware of anything else. Well, almost anything else. Besides the hooks, there was Lucifer, and that was it. Sam didn’t have any energy for even stray thoughts to pass through his brain. Fear could barely register anymore.

Lucifer walked around him, seeming pleased with his “artwork” as he’d called it earlier. Sam was now hanging from the chains, the hooks embedded in what remained of his flesh. A large puddle of blood had pooled beneath him, and with each second it continued to grow. It dripped from Sam so viciously there was nearly a constant stream. 

If Sam looked down he knew that he would see the bones of his legs through all that crimson. And a hook was embedded in his right foot, holding it at an angle that had required breaking his ankle to get it there. A few of his ribs were broken, as well, because Lucifer had felt like tearing at them with the hooks, splaying them out like some sort of demented wings. He’d done it haphazardly so that his organs wouldn’t fall out of him.

“Beautiful,” Lucifer commented. “Absolutely beautiful.” He sighed. “You know, I think I really missed my true calling. What I’ve done with you is stunning.” He then gave Sam an amused look. “I should get paid for this.”

Sam was far too exhausted to say anything to him, so he just hung his head, letting his eyes close. The darkness was there, at the edges of his mind it seemed, but he couldn’t reach it, and it wasn’t yet closing in on him. He wished it would, but the rules seemed to work differently here. Death wasn’t the end, but it was in no way easy to achieve. 

“Do you know any of the rules of Hell, Sam?” Unable to answer, he remained quiet. Lucifer seemed to take it as an answer, so he went on, “At the end of the day, a victim of torture will die. I mean, that is if they’ve been truly tortured. Like you have. We have maybe an hour left till that happens. So, I’ve decided, I’m just going to leave you here. I’ll have plenty of fun watching the life drain out of you. This has been so much fun already. So, I hope you don’t mind. I’m just going to get some demon blood, and then sit down and watch the show. Oh, and when you do die, don’t worry. I’ll take you down from these chains so your body can start reforming. It would be a shame if you didn’t come back to me… whole.”

Sam was barely conscious as Lucifer called out the name of some demon. He couldn’t hear what words were spoken, but a choked scream eventually met his ears. He opened his eyes blearily and saw Lucifer holding out a glass, much like the one he’d drunken from the night before, and he held it to the demon’s throat, the blood spurting into it. 

Sam licked his chapped lips as he watched, wanting some of the blood for himself. It nearly sickened him that even after all this he still craved the demon’s blood. On the verge of death he still yearned for its taste, and its power. 

Lucifer went right up to him, and he drank, trying to make this even worse for him. Sam couldn’t even flinch when he stroked his face. Besides, doing so would only jar the hooks that were in him.

“I know you want some, Sammy. But later, after you’ve been a good boy, and you actually remain in the bed with me.”

He wanted to tell Lucifer that that would never happen, but the thought of being able to have the demon’s blood was too tempting. Somehow, he’d have to get it. 

The hour passed by dismally. The darkness kept pressing in on Sam, getting closer and closer, and as it did he grew excited, wanting nothing more but his suffering to come to an end. The darkness offered that. An end. After finishing his glass of demon blood, Lucifer sang to him. His voice was annoyingly melodic, and the songs he chose were ironic. Every single one had something to do with Heaven, or Hell, or even both, angels, and demons, and torture, and horribly enough, love. And just when Sam couldn’t take it anymore, a line from the song _South of Heaven_ met his ears. 

As he died he heard the Devil sing, “The loss of all hope and your dignity…”


	9. Part Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This part contains rape.

Sam wasn’t surprised by the handcuff on his wrist when he woke up, and he wasn’t surprised that he was still naked, or that Lucifer was as well. What he was surprised by was the demon’s blood getting dripped into his open mouth. In his shock he nearly choked on it. 

Lucifer stroked his fingers across his throat. “It’s okay, Sammy. Drink. Everything’s okay.”

Even though he’d just gotten back from god knows where, he was tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to just give in for once.

Lucifer held the glass back, and allowed Sam to sit up, the comforter and sheets falling down to his lap. Sam brushed a hand through his hair, trying to get out some of the knots. He assumed Lucifer put the glass down somewhere because when he looked at him again his hands were empty.

“You look good doing that,” Lucifer commented.

“Shut up!” Sam instantly snapped. He then pulled the sheet up him a little more, and that was when he realized it was white. He frowned at it.

“Like the color?” Lucifer asked. “I felt like some irony would do us both good. We’re stuck here, so having a laugh wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“If only I could laugh,” Sam muttered. 

“Come on, this isn’t funny, Sam?” Lucifer asked, spreading his arms out as if to indicate where they were. “You won that little wrestling match we had in your head. This is what _you_ wanted. If it hadn’t been for you the two of us would be having the time of our lives destroying the world.”

Sam shifted so he could face him. “ _You’d_ be having the time of your life. I’d be miserable.”

“More miserable than you are in here? Really? I doubt that. But just think about it, Sam, what it would have been like if you had let me win.”

“I would’ve never let you win, so there’s nothing to think about.”

“Really?” He sidled closer, and Sam resisted the urge to move backwards. Under the sheet he put a hand on Sam’s knee, making his pulse quicken with fear. “I would’ve brought your parents back, Sam. You could’ve been with them.”

“Yeah? And what about Dean? Last I checked you didn’t mind beating the shit out of him.”

He moved his hand further up his thigh, but Sam didn’t make any move to get out of the bed. He remembered what Lucifer had told him from earlier. If he stayed, he’d get the demon blood. 

_Am I really that pathetic?_ Sam thought to himself. _I won’t fight against the Devil raping me if it gets me demon blood?_

No. Sam would fight, he just wouldn’t leave the bed. There was a loophole to what Lucifer had said, and Sam would use it. Besides, he knew from the night before that Lucifer wouldn’t be opposed to taking him on the floor. If Sam had to endure such a traumatic thing he’d rather it be in the bed where he was a little more comfortable. 

The Devil finally responded, “That’s because I was sick of fighting you. I thought for sure that if I killed Dean that you would give up. I’d already killed Castiel, and Bobby. Without Dean there would be no reason left for you to fight. I would have won.”

Sam gave him a wry smile. “Lucky for me, I won.”

“Yes, and now we’re all alone together. How will we pass the time?” 

With a grin that rather fit the description of devilish, Satan moved his hand further up Sam’s body, venturing in between his legs. He stayed still until he moved to grip his manhood. That was when Sam grabbed his shoulders and shoved him backwards with a cry. 

“Keep your hands off of me!” he shouted.

Lucifer just relented and let himself fall backwards onto the mattress. “Well, you’re a little more feisty than I expected.”

With disgust, Sam took his hands off of him, and moved backwards. He did it so quickly he nearly fell over, and his movement shifted the sheet and the comforter, making it so Lucifer could see all of him if he chose to. Right now that really bothered Sam, twisted his stomach into knots. 

“You can’t stop me from doing this to you, Sam.”

He scrunched up his face in disgust. “Why do you even want to?”

Lucifer tapped his chin with a finger. “Hm. Let’s see. We’re meant to be together, like I said earlier.” Sam grunted in anger at that, but he went on, “I _want_ to make you happy. At least, part of the time. And besides, it’d make me happy, too.”

“You just love hearing me scream, don’t you?”

Lucifer got to his knees, and started coming closer. Sam’s breath caught in his throat. He refused to look anywhere but Lucifer’s face when the sheet dropped away. Sam flinched when he held his face in his cold hands. 

Looking him in the eyes with utmost sincerity, Lucifer said, “I want to make you feel good, Sam.”

“Then find another way because what you have planned certainly won’t do the trick.” 

One of the hands that had been on Sam’s face wandered down his neck before traveling over his body, going lower. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…” Lucifer breathed. “You’ll enjoy yourself. I promise.”

He tried to push Lucifer away as his hand made its way over his hip, and then he started trailing his fingers across his pelvis. It was all in vain. Lucifer wasn’t playing around now. He wasn’t about to let Sam get the best of him. His lungs seemed to constrict as Lucifer pressed him down into the bed so that he was lying on his back. 

“I don’t want this,” he said through gritted teeth as Lucifer seemed to find what he had been looking for, and began stroking him. Those cold fingers against his skin made Sam feel like he was going to be sick. He could already feel his body starting to react to the stimulation, and it made him want to scream. He struggled beneath Lucifer, but he had straddled him, making it impossible for him to escape. “Get off me!” he cried.

“But Sammy, we’re just getting started,” Lucifer said with a pout. 

To Sam’s relief his hand left his groin, though, it wasn’t much better to have the Devil running his hands over his chest. Sam closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was somewhere else. Anywhere but here. He wouldn’t even mind if he was strung up on the hooks again. That would be better than being violated like this. Than having his body betray him. 

That was one of the worst things about this. Lucifer had barely gotten started and Sam’s body was already reacting to him. It didn’t realize that this was the Devil, or that this was against his will, or that Sam wasn’t into men like that. All his body seemed to understand right now was that it was being touched. And it wanted more. 

Sam cringed when he felt Lucifer’s forked tongue run along his abdomen, and he couldn’t help the whimper of fear that escaped him. “Don’t…” Sam breathed when Lucifer grabbed hold of him again, stroking in earnest. 

The physical pleasure was the worst torture he’d yet received. Nothing compared to it. All of this just felt so _wrong_.

“No,” he moaned out as each sensation intensified. 

The sparks of pleasure that ran through him made him feel sick to his stomach, and he had goosebumps; a mix of fear, and Lucifer’s frigid touch. Despite the icy fingers on him his body was beginning to heat up, yearning for further stimulation. He hated his body. Why did it have to do this? Why couldn’t it understand that _the Devil_ was doing this to him against his will? Why couldn’t it comprehend how terrifying this truly was?

Sam was given slight relief when Lucifer moved his hands upward, feeling his torso. He swallowed back bile when he leaned in and licked at his lips. 

“I get it, Sam. I do,” he responded, his voice already becoming eerily low. His words made Sam want to growl at him. How dare he even suggest he understood him! If he did then this wouldn’t be happening. “You feel guilty,” he went on. “Guilty because you started the apocalypse, and let me loose on the world. Although I know a part of you enjoyed it, I also know that there’s more than darkness in you. That’s what I like about you, Sam. You’re a good person, but you’re not just some boring hero. You’ve got those dark little secrets that have been taking up space in your noggin even before you understood what they truly meant. 

“And it wasn’t just the demon blood that did that. Oh no… It was me. You always felt what we would become.” Then, he paused, looking at Sam with an expression akin to pity; it was more a twisted form of sympathy. “And now you feel like you don’t deserve it. Like this is all too good for you.”

“You’re right about me feeling guilty,” Sam replied, “but that’s not what makes this wrong. You think I want you, Lucifer, and I don’t. I don’t want to have _anything_ to do with you.”

Lucifer gave him a sad smile, and then spoke as if Sam wasn’t even present, “They’re always so cute when they’re in denial.”

Sam flinched at the icy sting that assaulted him as Lucifer scraped his nails down his torso. He was proud of himself for holding back a grunt of pain because Lucifer would no doubt misinterpret it. Sam still wasn’t sure if he was delusional, or if he was just doing that on purpose. 

_Fuck._ Somehow, the pain had done him in. Against his will he could feel an intense heat pooling in his pelvis before spreading, reaching lower. Sam was mortified by the way his body was reacting. He could feel the pressure and warmth of his erection. Usually such a feeling was good, exciting, but now it made him ashamed. A blush that was from much more than arousal coated his cheeks red. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, once again trying to imagine that he was somewhere else. That this wasn’t happening to him. Maybe he could even pretend that Lucifer wasn’t the one touching him. 

That was made impossible when Lucifer began to stroke his dick in an almost reverent manner. Sam writhed beneath him, trying to escape, but he was weak compared to this dark angel.

Hopelessness, a feeling that Sam wasn’t used to, began to overwhelm him. Never had he been in a situation like this before. He’d always felt like he could protect himself. He knew how to fight, he trusted his strength, and his skills, and he trusted that Dean would be there for him. But now he was alone. No Dean, no weapons, his strength practically child’s play compared to Lucifer. There was absolutely nothing he could do.

Hot tears began to streak their way down his cheeks. At this point he didn’t even care. His shame couldn’t possibly get much worse. 

More tears fell as each stroke, and earnest tug, on his length increased the heat within him. Though the hands on him undoubtedly belonged to a man, it was as if Sam’s instincts didn’t care. He found himself having to tense his muscles in order to stop himself from bucking his hips. 

With each second he felt more and more hopeless. There was nothing he could do, and he knew that this was just the beginning of what Lucifer had planned for him. 

Overwhelmed nearly to the point of breaking, Sam gave up fighting. Doing that frightened him at first, but he promised himself that it was just with this. This was different than the torture that Lucifer had previously inflicted on him. There was no way out, and this was worse than being torn apart. It was more intimate, more emotional, more horrifying. Lucifer’s intentions made it worse. How could Sam possibly enjoy getting violated in such a way? How could anyone enjoy such a thing? Maybe Satan was delusional.

Lucifer began to speak again, but instead of being given a reprieve from his abhorrent touch, he kept at it, “Are those happy tears, Sammy?”

A sob escaped his throat, and he shuddered. “I don’t want you to call me that,” he barely got out amidst his sobbing. That actually made Lucifer stop. 

Sam’s eyes popped open when Lucifer’s breath wafted over his face. Seeing his face suddenly so close made Sam freeze in terror, his sobs catching in his throat. In his peripheral vision he could see that Lucifer had a hand on either side of his head. His heart was beating so strongly he was sure that Lucifer could hear it. 

“Bunk buddy, what did I tell you about this? I can call you whatever I please.”

With a shaky voice that was barely above a whisper, Sam managed to say, “My name is Sam, and that’s what I’ll respond to.”

Sam flinched when Lucifer leaned in closer, and without any hesitation brushed his lips along his cheekbone till he reached his ear. Though he still felt hopeless, he found himself struggling to get out from beneath him. The suddenness of it all had shocked him into reacting. All that earned him though was being restrained further. Lucifer grabbed hold of his wrists, and pinned them down to the bed. Sam was now ultimately trapped beneath this dark angel, having nothing to do, but await his fate. 

He tensed as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear, and then he asked in a soft voice, “Alright, Sam, so do you want me to whisper your name into your ear? Will that please you?”

“The only thing that’ll please me is you leaving me the hell alone!” Sam found himself shouting. 

A groan left him from what happened next. There was just absolutely no way to win. Apparently Lucifer found it attractive when he raised his voice. He probably found it attractive when he did anything, but Sam felt awful that he had accidently enticed him. It made him feel like the growl Lucifer released, followed by him viciously biting on his earlobe, was his own fault. And the groan only made matters worse. 

Sam wasn’t sure how, but all of a sudden there was now a handcuff around his other wrist. He knew Lucifer could alter what the two of them perceived while they were in this cage, but something like this? The technicalities of it soon didn’t matter because the added handcuff now left him even more restrained, and privy to Lucifer’s touch. 

As his hands found his dick again and he started kissing his way down his torso, Sam did his best to take deep breaths. Hyperventilating in such a situation wouldn’t do him any favors. 

“How’s this, Sam?” he asked. “Do you like this?”

Temporarily forgetting where he was, and being so used to the phrase, Sam spat out, “Go to Hell!”

“We’re already here!” Lucifer sang, and then Sam’s manhood was in his mouth. 

A whimper left Sam at that, and more tears made their way down his face. He’d experienced oral sex before, but this was different. The hand that was stroking where his mouth didn’t reach was large, as was the one that had set to fondling his balls; the hands of a man. They lacked the daintiness and dexterity that Sam found attractive about a woman’s hands. What was happening to him was much too obvious. What made it worse was Lucifer’s forked tongue that ran along his length in time with the slow, but steady movement of his head. It felt _wrong._ Sickening. 

Sam bit back a cry as Lucifer fit more of him in his mouth. His body found this to be even more invigorating than what had been happening before. The fire in him grew, waves of heat traversing him. It battled with the raw, frozen fear that worked its way through him, trying to become the dominant emotion. Neither won for the time being, and the fight Sam’s body was having with itself sent tremors through him. 

Lucifer put more work into what he was doing, mistaking his reaction as one of pure pleasure. That only increased everything he was feeling tenfold. A cry did leave him then. He was in such a weak position; being restrained, unable to fight, and dangerously overwhelmed by emotions. They crippled him. Even the arousal managed to cripple him because as it grew, so did his fear. It all grew until he had to hold his breath just to keep back an anguished scream. 

That was one victory that Sam could deny Lucifer. He _would_ not hear him scream. Screams of pain felt different. More natural. What was now constantly threatening to let loose was a jumble of so many different feelings. It didn’t seem as natural. Accepting pain, and allowing one’s self to scream about it if need be, was okay. It was just part of being human. But this, this was something that no one should ever have to experience. The pure violation was enough to make him wish for death. Much more so than when he’d been being tortured. Torture he could withstand. He’d done it before. But there was no way to withstand something that was so successfully tearing his soul apart. 

Lucifer teased his nerves by using just his hands now, keeping his touch as light as possible. The flickers of sensation it sent through him made him involuntarily buck his hips closer to his hands, yearning for more touch, more pressure. The saliva that was left on him instantly cooled at Lucifer’s touch, and it made Sam hurt in a way that was, terribly enough, not unpleasant. He tossed his head to the side, still struggling with holding back his voice. An ache grew in his chest, and his head began to throb. That was when an idea struck him. Maybe he could hold his breath long enough to pass out. 

Would Lucifer even have the decency to stop what he was doing? That would be one good thing, but perhaps it would be better if he just continued. No. As fearful as he was of this entire experience he wanted to be aware of what happened to him. It was optimal when compared to not knowing what had happened. 

Eventually, Sam couldn’t hold his breath any longer, and he relented, taking in great, big gasps of air. 

“I was wondering when you’d give that up,” Lucifer mused, reaching a hand up to caress his heaving chest. Sam looked down at his hand, still mortified that he was touching him in such a way. 

Before Sam could properly catch his breath Lucifer had encased him in his mouth once more. Taken by surprise, Sam nearly cried out, but he gritted his teeth, only letting out a groan. Lucifer then took him out of his mouth with a wet _pop_ that made him cringe. 

“Come on, Sam, I know you can do better than that. It’s just the two of us. You can let loose.”

Adamantly, Sam shook his head, closing his eyes again. He’d do anything, even gouge his own eyes out, to not have to see the way Lucifer looked at him as if he was something to be caught and devoured. 

“I’ve been good to you tonight, bunk buddy. And I don’t want to hurt you right now. I want to please you. Just let me do that.”

“I’d rather be skinned alive,” Sam retaliated.

A shudder passed through him as Lucifer’s forked tongue then ran its way up his length, circling the tip when it reached the end of its path. Thankfully, that was all he did for now. 

“Ooh, Sammy… you need to stop giving me ideas.”

Sam tensed at once again hearing his nickname said in the Devil’s voice. Just hearing it from anyone but Dean felt wrong, like it was a crime, and it mocked his close bond with him. This, this was a desecration of the one person he cared about more than anything. Sam thought he might even count it as an act of evil. _Dean_ had given him that nickname because he cared about him, so only _Dean_ could call him it.

“Stop calling me that!” he cried out, opening his eyes to look at his abuser as he fought against his restraints with renewed vigor. He managed to sit up, and he reached out, wanting to get his hands around Lucifer’s neck. He was just out of reach. A growl of rage left him from being so close, but not close enough. Logically, he knew that strangling him wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t kill him, but maybe making him suffer would ease some of the torment he felt. 

Tears of frustration brimmed in his eyes when Lucifer only gave him a depraved smile. “Sam,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, “you are giving me chills.” That was when he dropped his hands to his lap, letting out an anguished scream. No matter what he did, Satan would win. 

For a few seconds he was trapped in his thoughts, consumed by fear, the shame he felt for his body enjoying this, and the guilt that plagued him from accidently enticing Lucifer. 

Quite a shocking thing brought him back to reality, and he jumped, gasping as Lucifer promptly straddled him. Sam was forced to look him in the eye as he held his face in his hands. Despite feeling the need to fight back, Sam just gave in, letting his hands rest beside his legs. There was no hope for victory over Lucifer. 

Sam took deep breaths, doing his best to ignore the feeling of Lucifer’s hardened length rubbing sickeningly against his own. His breath hitched when it hit him that that only made him crave more sensation. 

What made the experience even more unusual was that Lucifer was still cold. As far as Sam could tell, all of him was cold. So being turned on did little to change that; just another thing that made all of this so very wrong. 

“Sam,” Lucifer began, doing his best to keep his tone soft despite the rough quality desire gave it, “I want you to take me. All that rage, all that heat you feel, I want to experience it.”

Caught off guard by such odd, unexpected words, Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You heard me, bunk buddy. I want you to mount me and ravish me.”

Sam swallowed roughly, a disturbing image coming unbidden to his mind. 

All he was able to ask was, “Why?” After a pause he muttered, “I took you for more of the dominant type.”

“Oh, I am,” Lucifer responded. “But so are you.” Sam frowned at the fact that Lucifer had acquired that personal information about him while scouring through his head, baring Sam to him in a way that had left him feeling worn out, dirty. “I want you to be happy,” he went on. “Plus, you are just so… _intense_.” He got in closer, and Sam frowned at his foul breath. “Even the way you breathe, like you’re holding yourself back from reacting, is intense. I wasn’t lying when I said you were giving me chills. But,” he continued, running his hand tenderly under Sam’s chin, “I know you’re not ready for that.”

Sam gave a laugh that was void of amusement before telling him, “If you think I’ll ever consent to that then you’re insane. No wonder God cast you out. I know I wouldn’t want a basket case for a son.”

It had felt good to say that, but it had made Lucifer grab his hair and tug painfully. Sam’s breath came in heavy puffs, wondering what was going to be done to him now.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he growled out.

“I’m sorry, being polite to Satan wasn’t really on my to-do list,” Sam said sarcastically, surprised that he even had the courage to do so. Then again, it could have just as easily been stupidity. The words had rushed out of his mouth before he’d even had time to think about them.

“I ought to spank you into obedience,” Lucifer snarled.

Sam’s heart leaped up into his throat, but he managed to get out, “No, thank you.”

Lucifer stared into his eyes, studying him for a few incredibly tense seconds, and then he brushed a hand through his hair. Oh, he hated the feeling of his fingers against his scalp. And it was unnerving that he could be so gentle when he wanted to be. 

Sam was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the moment ended, but he couldn’t because what Lucifer said was more frightening than the thought of banging him. Rather, Lucifer thought the other way around was a splendid idea since Sam wasn’t ready to go all animalistic on him. 

When Sam didn’t respond to this, Lucifer told him, “It’s okay, Sammy. You’ll enjoy it. Not all men know this, but there’s a little, special spot up inside of us.” This wasn’t news to Sam thanks to some of the weirder conversations he’d had with Dean. His silence must have conveyed that knowledge because Lucifer looked slightly taken aback. But then he smiled. “So you already knew that.” After a pause, “Sammy, is this really your first time with a man?”

“What do you think, ass-hat?” Sam said in a quiet voice, just barely restraining his need to lash out. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Sorry I asked,” he muttered. “But, since this is new to you, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Sounds good,” Sam proclaimed, “so then I’ll be expecting you to leave me alone the rest of the night, and tomorrow morning I’d better be served breakfast made by a five-star chef.”

“Sam, there is a difference between pampering and worshipping. Tonight, I intend to worship.”

His words made him swallow back any sharp responses that had been forming on his tongue. 

“What, so now you’re suddenly quiet? Sammy, I like hearing your voice.”

And just because of that, Sam didn’t grant him with an answer. Lucifer rolled his eyes, sliding off his lap as he did so.

“Whatever. It’s not like you _have_ to talk to me. I would like it though.”

Sam only stared at him with defiance, which was hard to muster in his terrified state. When Lucifer suddenly began to run his pointer finger along his lips, Sam turned his head away sharply. He just had to avoid his touch. That only made Lucifer grab his chin and yank his head towards him rather painfully. 

“Now, now, Sam, let’s not be uncooperative.”

With his heart beating fast, and his blood pumping furiously, Sam did something he knew was risky… he spit in Lucifer’s face. The last time he’d done that had earned him a little time with death, but surely Lucifer wouldn’t react in the same way again. After doing it, Sam’s stomach turned. Maybe he’d made a serious mistake. Maybe this would make him _really_ wish for death. 

He found himself swallowing roughly from Lucifer’s vile words, “I can see you want to get into it a little more.”

“Leave me alone.”

Lucifer _tsk_ ed as he nonchalantly ran a hand down Sam’s chest, over his muscled abdomen, and then stroked across his length. Sam tried kicking himself away from him, but he only succeeded in tumbling backwards, Lucifer going with him. The dark angel’s weight on him made him close his eyes as his lungs fought for breath. Nearly his whole body was panicking, except for the one part that really mattered right now. The part of him that Lucifer was paying so much attention to.

“You say you want me to leave you alone,” Lucifer began, “but _this_ ,” he emphasized the word by giving Sam a tug that made him gasp, “this says otherwise.”

Sam didn’t know how to argue that. In a way, wasn’t Lucifer right? Didn’t that part of his body want this?

No. He couldn’t believe that. But it was just so difficult when he felt the pressure and the heat. When Lucifer’s touch made him tingle, and burn. 

Without waiting for any kind of response, Lucifer began doing something that Sam really wished he didn’t process. Afterwards, he wanted all of this wiped from his mind somehow. He didn’t care that it was most likely impossible because how else could he continue existing? How could he go through each day knowing of the violation he’d experienced? The sheer degradation? The betrayal by his own body? It was beyond humiliating when Lucifer sat up, wrapped his hands around both their lengths so that they were pressed together, and began gyrating his hips. This wouldn’t have even been possible, or as enjoyable for Lucifer, if Sam weren’t erect. He was so pissed at his body. Why was he erect? _Why?_

More tears rolled down his cheeks when a moan left his mouth. He just couldn’t help it. His body liked the stimulation it was receiving. Yet, at the same time, it made him want to vomit.

Still maintaining the rhythm he’d set up, Lucifer leaned down and kissed each of Sam’s cheeks in turn, seeming to savor the saltiness of his tears. Such an action only made him cry more.

He wasn’t sure how long this torment went on for, but eventually, he found himself fighting Lucifer as he struggled to roll him onto his stomach.

“No!” Sam cried out, feeling even more afraid than he even thought possible. Knowing what was going to happen next made him fight like a crazed animal; using his teeth, his nails. All of it was useless, and it seemed to make Lucifer more excited. 

But he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t! 

Amidst the struggles and pleas, Lucifer managed to get him on his stomach. Sam crawled out from beneath him before he could fully settle himself on the backs of his thighs, but Lucifer only grabbed his shoulders and dragged him down towards him again, Sam scraping wood off the headboard in his fight to stay away. Tears sprung to his eyes as a few of his nails ripped off, leaving stains of blood on the white sheets. 

It was some time before he was able to admit defeat; his situation gave him no other choice. The chains were becoming too heavy around his wrists, and Lucifer had a strong grip on his arms to hold him down. Now, he was straddling Sam, and his hardened length was against him, making Sam sweat profusely. Oh god, this couldn’t be happening to him. 

“Don’t do this!” he cried out as a final plea, knowing it was useless, but he still needed to try. 

When Lucifer released his grip on one arm Sam tried to fight him again, but it was all in vain. He could barely shift beneath him, let alone stop this from happening. As if that thought was the final straw the energy seemed to leave Sam’s body. He was completely helpless as Satan prepared to enter him. 

A scream tore from Sam’s throat with Lucifer’s first thrust, and his body shuddered from the sudden invasion. It was agonizing. As Lucifer held him down and began to ride him, Sam realized that there was more than one way to be torn apart. 

His body had seemed to have given up, so he couldn’t move. Screaming and crying seemed like some of the only things his body was capable of. That, and being aroused by the dreadful mix of pain and pleasure. Lucifer was hitting a spot inside him that had never known stimulation before, and under better circumstances, never would have. 

For some reason he cooperated when Lucifer changed their position a bit, having Sam crouch on the bed. It was like he was trapped within his mind, unable to fight back, or to show some form of resistance. Physically, he was completely compliant against his will. 

His screams grew louder when Lucifer circled an arm around his hips. Now he gripped his dick, stroking feverishly in time with his thrusts. Sam’s body shuddered, feeling completely overwhelmed from pain, pleasure, fear, and revulsion. Still, pleasure sought to override everything. 

The inside of him throbbed, as well as his dick. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, and it was something he never wanted to experience again. He was vaguely aware of blood dripping down him to stain the sheets. 

“I know… I know I said I’d go… easy on you, Sam… but I’m… Satan,” Lucifer nearly shouted out amidst all the screaming sensation, “I lie.” After a near-maniacal laugh he continued, “And you… you are just so… hot! Damn!”

Still trapped within his own mind, Sam wasn’t able to say anything. He wanted to plead with him to stop. He wanted to yell that this was wrong. The urge to convince the Devil to stop raping him throbbed through him with each pump of his heart. His head pounded, and fear threatened to consume him. Yet, despite all that fear, there was still room for shame, and guilt. Shame because his body seemed to want this, and guilt because his actions only seemed to excite Lucifer. 

There was no winning, only enduring.

Sam had thought he’d already experienced the worst things that were humanly possible, but nothing compared to the climax of this particular form of violation. Sam’s nerves seared, sensation cascading through him, making him scream louder than ever before. And the pain, oh the pain! And worse than that, Lucifer yelling “Sammy” into his ear as he reached his own end. The stickiness of it inside of him sent a fresh wave of tears rolling down his face as his body shuddered in revulsion, and the aftermath of its abuse. 

When Satan was done, Sam found that he could only lie there, completely stunned, unable to accept what had happened to him. That hadn’t just happened to him. There was no way the Devil had just raped him. That was the stuff of nightmares, of horror movies, of Satanic ritual crap, not something that actually happened to him. No. It was impossible. He was Sam Winchester. A hunter. He wasn’t a victim of such a thing. So when Lucifer began to run his hand over Sam’s back he barely registered it.

Lucifer rambled on about the experience that couldn’t have possibly happened while Sam drifted off to sleep, nightmares of blood, and a searing touch, haunting his dreams.


	10. Part Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more manipulation and non-consensual stuff. Lucifer seriously needs to chill.

After hours of sleep a voice broke into Sam’s unconscious thoughts. “Rise and shine, Sammy.” It sounded like Dean, to him. He couldn’t really piece things together just yet, so he just assumed Dean was getting him up so they could do research for a job, or something like that. He sighed. Usually he liked to get up early, but if Dean was waking him up it meant that he’d slept in.

He shifted on the mattress, stretching himself out. A groan left him when that caused his body to ache. What had he done last night? He couldn’t remember. Was he injured? Was that why Dean had let him sleep in?

“We have a busy schedule today,” the voice said again. Now it sounded less like Dean’s. It was higher, not as gruff. “If you get up, you’ll get a reward.”

Okay, now that was strange, and the person talking was definitely not Dean. A reward? What the hell was that supposed to mean? What was going on?

And then he was able to shake himself from his sleep. Actually, he was nearly completely shocked into consciousness. The past two days came rushing back to him. Hell. Locked in the cage with Satan. Torture. 

Abruptly, he sat up, causing the chains to rattle. Not caring about the pain it caused him, and he looked around wildly. Lucifer was closer to him than he had expected he’d be, so he drew himself back when he spotted him.

“That was fast,” he commented. “Excited about that reward?”

Sam scrunched up his face in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer shifted closer, and Sam made sure to keep his eyes on his face. He tensed his muscles when the dark angel stroked a hand down his arm. “I meant to give it to you last night, but, well, I forgot.”

“Forgot?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Jeez, do you always ask so many questions? Yes, Sam. _You_ made me forget. See, being an angel doesn’t mean I’m going to have perfect memory. Most cases, yes, but you, you’re the exception. It’s easy to get distracted around you.”

“Great,” Sam muttered. 

He couldn’t really remember what Lucifer was talking about either, and there was no way that he was going to search through his memories to see if he could recall what it was. But then, Lucifer reached out and put a hand to his cheek. Unbidden, the night before came to him in a horrifying flash, the memories ignited by Lucifer’s touch. Sam shuddered as they attacked his mind; the abhorrent cold of Lucifer touching him inside and out, his body heating up against his will from the contact, the look in Lucifer’s eyes that had made him feel like a piece of prey, the pain, the hopelessness. Somewhere in that was the memory of Lucifer telling him he’d get demon blood if he stayed in the bed. The memories subsided, but he was frozen, unable to turn his head away as Lucifer stroked his cheek.

“Alright there, Sam?”

“Peachy,” he spat out. 

“Good,” Lucifer said before removing his hand from his cheek, and then tapping him on the nose. Sam flinched from the unexpected contact. Then, he began getting out of the bed, Sam averting his eyes. “I’ll just get a demon to come up to the bars, and-“

He was cut off when Sam cleared his throat. He turned to him, his eyebrows raised expectantly, and he put his hands on his hips. “Yes, _Sammy_?”

Ignoring the use of his nickname he said hesitantly, “Don’t you think you should put some clothes on first?”

Satan waved a hand at him as if to say he was being ridiculous. “Who cares? We’re in Hell. Sex, and torture is the norm around here.” He then leaned forward, as if he was about to share a secret with him. “Believe me, you don’t even want to know the half of what these demons get up to. If I could dream I’d have nightmares.”

“It can’t be any worse than what you’ve already done to me.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Sam frowned before saying in a sardonic tone, “Yeah, I bet.”

Satisfied that there was nothing else to say for now, Lucifer unashamedly walked to the edge of the cage. Sam glanced around, looking for his clothes. Hopefully they were around here somewhere. He wasn’t comfortable being without them. Besides, he decided it would be best to ignore what Lucifer was up to. Just because demon blood was like a drug to him didn’t mean that he should have it. It was inevitable that he would, but he wasn’t about to help in obtaining it. As he got off the bed, he glanced over at Lucifer. He seemed to have everything under control anyway. 

Sam blushed as a female figure approached the bars of the cage, and then he promptly busied himself with looking for his clothes. Ignoring the pain in his insides that screamed in admonition, Sam crouched down to search under the bed. And there they were, neatly folded. He pulled his shirt out to see if it was even wearable. The last time he’d worn it Lucifer had practically slashed it to pieces. To his mild surprise (he was getting used to the odd things that Lucifer seemed to be able to control around here) his blue and white plaid shirt was all in one piece. Not letting himself be bothered by the changes to it, and feeling rather thankful, he observed his other clothes, finding them to be in the same condition. Quickly, he put them on, trying to use the bed to obscure the view the female demon beyond the cage had of him. She didn’t seem totally wrapped up in whatever conversation she was having with Lucifer, and she looked behind him. She winked at Sam as he was putting his shirt on, making him blush in shame, and once again being reminded of how he’d been violated. He quickly looked down, and he heard the demon laugh. 

Then he caught what Lucifer was saying, his voice louder, giving Sam the impression that he had turned to look at him. “You like him, do you?” The demon must have said that she did because Lucifer called to him, “Sammy, get over here.”

Reluctantly, Sam did just that, pulling on his jacket as he did so. Right now there was nothing to do about being bare-foot, but having an extra layer of clothing made him feel less vulnerable. After he stood beside Lucifer, he finished buttoning up his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. 

“Oh, don’t be nervous, Sam,” Lucifer told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. When Sam glanced at him, he was smiling. “I just want to introduce you to my friend here.”

“No need,” she spoke, her voice low, but not unpleasant. Now Sam looked at her. Pale skin, dark hair, surprisingly smooth, almost angelic looking features. Though, the blue of her eyes made him uncomfortable; reminded him of Lucifer. “Everyone around here knows about the Winchesters.” Now she spoke directly to Sam, “Isn’t that right, Sam?”

“I like to call him Sammy,” Lucifer said, sounding rather pleased with himself. Sam looked at him, his jaw set as he gave him a look of indignation. Feeling his gaze on him, Lucifer turned to him. “Don’t give me that look,” he told him. “I can see it’s growing on you.”

“Whatever, Luci.”

That made Lucifer grab his face, and pull him close. “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

“I don’t know. What did I tell you about calling me Sammy?”

As they stared at each other, the anger between them growing, they completely forgot about the presence of the demon. 

“I am going to teach you to obey me,” Lucifer snarled. “And you are not going to like it one bit.”

Sam was unable to reply, but then he didn’t need to. They were reminded of their guest when soft laughter met their ears. Lucifer turned to her, and Sam tried, though Lucifer was still holding his face in that bruising grip.

“I can practically feel the chemistry,” she commented. “Why don’t you two boys put on a show for me, or something? I can see there’s some stuff you need to get out.”

Slowly, a feral smile made its way onto Lucifer’s face, and then he turned to Sam. “Good idea.”

Before he could get a chance to defend himself, he was flung aside, landing on his back onto the hard stone, the wind sufficiently knocked out of him. Lucifer was already over him just as his breath was restored. Sam cried out as he punched him in the face, and his head flung to the side. Then, he leaned down, preparing to say something in his ear. Sam tensed, preparing himself for whatever vile words might come out of his mouth. 

“I’m going to drag you over to the bed. There’s a knife under my pillow. I want you to grab it for me so we can end that demon bitch over there.” Sam gave him a surprised look, and as he opened his mouth to say something Lucifer silenced him with a quick kiss to his lips that left him spluttering. Lucifer’s stern look told him to keep quiet. Sam was definitely going to now that he’d experienced what Lucifer would do to shut him up. “Pretend to fight me,” Lucifer whispered. “It has to look real.”

As Lucifer began dragging him back over to the bed, Sam did just that, though he wasn’t doing much in the way of pretending. He was satisfied when he landed a punch on him. In response, Lucifer slammed him uncomfortably back against the bed, seeming to be truly upset. In his defense, he still kept to the plan, having Sam be in reach of the knife under the pillow.

Lucifer whispered to him as Sam made his arm flop against the bed, looking like he’d given up, “You don’t have to pretend that much.”

“What, a chance to punch you in the face? I’d never pass up an opportunity like that.”

“And neither would I,” Lucifer growled quietly before landing a blow to his cheek that made him grunt. “Now, Sam,” he whispered urgently.

Fighting through the pain that left him temporarily blinded, Sam searched underneath the pillow as quickly as possible, feeling a rush as he grabbed the knife. “Quick, before she realizes what’s going on. I’ll hold her still while you slash her throat.”

Instead of protesting, Sam burst into action, slamming his way past Lucifer, who quickly regained his balance and kept pace beside him. In a matter of seconds they had reached the edge of the cage, and Lucifer grabbed the demon’s wrists, holding her against the bars. Her eyes were wide with fear. 

“What about a glass, or something?” Sam asked. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Lucifer told him, “now take care of her.”

Resolve set in, knowing that it wouldn’t be good to disobey Lucifer, and he had a rush from holding a knife, from having the opportunity to use it. Quickly, before the demon could even scream, he slashed her throat. Her body fell against the bars, and Sam watched, exhilaration pumping through him, as the blood poured out of her. He felt a slight moment of panic until he looked down, and saw that with one hand Lucifer was now holding a glass under the flow of blood, catching as much as possible.

“If you could just make that appear in your hand,” Sam queried, “why didn’t you do that with the knife?”

Lucifer answered simply without looking at him, “I wanted to show you how well we work together. Besides, anything to get in a little tussle with my bunk buddy.”

Sam was angered by his words. Really? Lucifer had done all that just to prove something to him? Sam hated to admit that he was right. They did work well together. It was strange, but they made an effective team. 

To show his dislike of Lucifer playing him like that, Sam threw the knife across the cage, where it clattered noisily to the stone ground. Lucifer looked to it, and then rolled his eyes. Sam didn’t see because he’d already turned his back on him, and was going to the far side. He sat himself down in the corner, pulled his knees to his chest, and just stayed there, feeling numb. 

Eventually, Lucifer came to him with the glass, and he crouched down with him. “I’ll be good and let you have the first sip,” he told him.

Sam looked away, trying to find some form of entertainment in the fire that danced around the prison. All he found there was a fierceness that brought back the memory of Lucifer burning him. Quickly, he looked away, focusing his eyes on the black rock instead. And once again, another memory assaulted him. A memory of his blood dripping to the ground, where it nearly seemed to be soaked up. That had unnerved him. 

Giving up with averting his gaze, Sam looked at Lucifer dead on, and he told him, “I’ll only drink that if you put your clothes on.”

“You’re so pushy,” Lucifer sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine.” And then, Sam’s eyes were given great relief because Lucifer was suddenly clothed. Back in the jeans, and the shirt that his previous vessel had worn when he’d possessed him. Sam wasn’t surprised by this. Lucifer seemed to like the look, and he wasn’t exactly there physically. Well, he was. The pain that Sam still felt reminded him of that, but this form he appeared to him in was just so there was a person for Sam to see and interact with. He shivered as he thought about that.

Now, Lucifer held the glass closer to him, and Sam could smell the intoxicating scent of the demon’s blood. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and allowed Lucifer to hold the glass up to his lips so he could drink. He closed his eyes as the warm, thick liquid pooled onto his tongue. He even let out a little moan of contentment. Already he was starting to feel its effect on him, the power it made him feel. All too soon the glass was away from him, and he opened his eyes, glaring at Lucifer as he had some for himself. They then stared at each other in intense silence that seemed to thicken the air around them. Lucifer was waiting for Sam to do something about the situation. He knew that. And Sam was just trying to hold out, not wanting to have another incident that involved making out with the devil for demon blood. After last night, he had a sickening feeling that Lucifer would be all too pleased if such a thing happened. 

Lucifer waited, his mouth full of demon blood, and he even swished it around to make the fact obvious to Sam. Sam set his jaw, and reached for the bars, gripping tightly to hold himself back. The need for the demon blood pounded through him, dashing all sense of reason from his mind. 

Lucifer now raised his eyebrows at him, as Sam still did nothing. It was so difficult not to. Not when he could smell it. To make matters worse, Lucifer brought the glass under his nose. That did him in, and he found himself letting out a vicious cry as he lunged for it. 

And like his first day in the cage, Lucifer no longer held the glass. Sam looked around in vain for it, and when his search proved fruitless, his eyes landed on Lucifer; he looked so content with how things were playing out.

Ignoring the look was easy since now his only thoughts were about the demon’s blood. As quickly as he could, the need for the blood thrumming through him, he grabbed the Devil’s face, forcing his mouth open with a tight grip on his jaw, and like he’d done before, he began to drink from his mouth. This time he did so more greedily. It wasn’t like this was as bad as what had happened last night. And besides, he wasn’t doing this with the goal of making out with the Devil. It was for the demon’s blood. That was all. And it felt natural, having associated the taste of the blood with the touch of skin. There wasn’t the warmth that he was used to, but that didn’t matter much. At least something felt a little normal. 

Lucifer didn’t seem to realize that Sam wasn’t doing this for him. With a groan of satisfaction, he slammed Sam back against the bars. The detail seemed unimportant to him at the moment. There was still blood in his mouth that he could get. 

The taste of it was so very intoxicating, and each drop made him feel more powerful, and alert, more alive. When Lucifer put his tongue in Sam’s mouth Sam didn’t have it in him to fight him. Rather, he found himself unconsciously sucking on his tongue, trying to get the remainder of the blood off of it. Then there was nothing left to get. He pulled away, gasping for air. His need for the demon blood was still on the verge of turning into actual pain, so there wasn’t room for realization about what he was doing to set in. 

To his relief, he was soon succumbing to the taste once more. Lucifer had one hand under his chin, and the other held the glass, helping him drink from it. If Sam hadn’t been so wrapped up in the blood he would have been appalled by the pleased expression on Satan’s face. Instead of fighting for the glass as he pulled it away, knowing it would be useless to do such a thing, Sam waited, his body tense. He was ready to pounce the instant Lucifer had more demon blood to offer him. After having a sip for himself, which he actually swallowed, he put some in his mouth again, waiting for Sam to take it. And he did, even more eagerly than before. The more blood he had, the more his desire grew. It was an addiction he couldn’t fight. To do so would feel worse than death. It’d be torture in its own right. And he’d had enough of torture for now.

Sam was blissfully ignorant to the moans of desire the Devil let out, as well as the hands that had made their way into his hair, and the body that was pressing up against him. None of it mattered since it allowed him to have the demon blood. Nothing at all mattered besides it. He didn’t care where he was. He didn’t care about what he was doing, and with whom. He didn’t care about anything except the warm, intoxicating liquid that his actions were granting him with. 

This continued until there was none left. It took a bit for Sam to realize that; he continued to desperately search Lucifer’s mouth with his tongue, seeking more. Eventually, he gave up, and pulled away, breathing heavily from the exhilaration of having the demon blood flow through him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Revulsion pricked at his mind, but it didn’t encompass him. He was still numbed to everything. The emotions were there, but blocked. He didn’t know how to let them loose, and frankly, he didn’t want to. It was all too horrible.

Lucifer gave him a satisfied smile and patted him on the cheek. 

“The things you can do with that tongue of yours,” he mused. “Maybe I can get you to be so eager to touch another part of me, huh?”

“Only in your fantasies,” Sam retorted. Such a thing would _never_ happen. He wasn’t very aware of his own emotions, but his body seemed to be, and a shudder ran through him as goosebumps rose on his skin.

Lucifer cocked his head as he studied him. “Did you just shiver, bunk buddy? Are you lying to me and you really do want to touch me there?”

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me, so I’m not going to lie to you,” Sam told him, surprised by how unsteady his voice was. 

Lucifer sat back as he gave a discontented sigh. “I thought as much. Oh well, a man can hope.” Then he stood up, and rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Now, it’s time to really get the day started. Come on, Sammy. Stand up.”

Sam stared defiance at him. 

“Really? You’re going to be like that? After the night we shared together, don’t you think that’s a little rude?” Sam still didn’t respond. His lack of reaction made the Devil sigh. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to do as I say, or-“

“Or what?” Sam interrupted, an idea quickly coming to mind. “You’ll torture me?” He shrugged. “Can’t say I’m all that impressed, what with already having been tortured and all.”

Lucifer knelt down to get to his level, his blue eyes alighting with a dangerous, cold fire. “I think you’ll find that I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

“So?” Sam asked, beginning to feel more in control of the situation. “Those tricks you’ve got, you’re going to use them anyway, so what’s the point in threatening me with them? It doesn’t matter if you use them now, or later because eventually, you will. Who knows, maybe you’ll even run out of things to do to me.”

Sam gasped as Lucifer reached out and snatched a hold of his shirt, drawing him close. “Now suddenly you’re not afraid of me,” he mused.

“I didn’t say that. You’re threats just aren’t working in the way you’d like them to. Seriously, Lucifer, why threaten a person you’re going to torture anyway?”

With an angry growl Lucifer threw him back against the bars, and stood before turning his back on him. Breathing didn’t seem so difficult now that Lucifer wasn’t taking up his personal space.

Without turning back to him, Lucifer said in an eerily calm tone, “Stand up, Sammy.”

“No.”

“ _Stand. Up._ ”

Even though his back was to him, Sam couldn’t help the smirk he set on his face. “I think I’ll take my chances of staying on the ground, thanks. Much more cozy anyway compared to the torture table I’m sure you’ll put me on.”

At that, Lucifer turned around, a smile on his face that made Sam no longer feel so confident. “Who said anything about a torture table?” He glanced over his shoulder, and Sam fearfully followed his gaze to where the bed was. When his eyes met Lucifer’s he realized that antagonizing him like this had been a horrible mistake. Torture, Sam could withstand, but what the Devil had in mind, well, that was enough to break anyone.


	11. Part Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This part contains rape.

Gasps left Sam at the Devil’s cold touch against his bare skin, and for what must’ve been the thousandth time, Sam cursed his body for reacting in the way it did. Like the night before, he was completely trapped in his own mind, almost like he was watching what was happening rather than experiencing it. His body was doing things without his permission; arching into Lucifer’s touch rather than shying away, lying prone while he was violated rather than fighting. What made it all worse was that Lucifer noticed these things, and he felt like the handcuffs weren’t necessary. Sam would’ve preferred it to have that cold metal wrapped around his wrists, restraining him. It would’ve meant that he was still fighting. He wanted to fight with every fiber of his being, but his thoughts couldn’t be turned into actions. It was like there was a block between his mind and his body. 

See, torture was easy to deal with when compared to this. Torture was much more straightforward. The intent behind it was to dole out pain, to make the victim suffer in just that one way. There were no tricks, no mixed signals between the torturer and the victim. It was all very clear. Whereas with this, there was a mix of sensation; pain, both emotional and physical, mired within pleasure. The sheer confusion of it was enough to drive anyone mad. 

Logically, Sam knew it wasn’t his fault that his body liked the way it was being touched. He knew that his nerves were simply doing their job, feeling. But knowing something didn’t mean that it would register emotionally. And that was why he felt ashamed. The shame burrowed so deep he wished there was a way to hide from even himself. There had to be some way to not react, to not feel. There had to! 

_I’m stronger than this,_ Sam thought wistfully. _I should be._

To him, the heat in his body was his fault, the sparks that erupted from Lucifer’s touch on his abdomen were his fault, the way his hips bucked against Lucifer’s palm was his fault. All of it, every single little action, every sensation, was his fault. He was to blame. 

Tears pricked at the corners of Sam’s eyes as it hit him how weak he truly was. A voice whispered to him that it wasn’t true. He was strong just for enduring, but that voice was so far away, so quiet. And it felt like it was simply whispering lies. 

Lucifer used his thumbs to brush the tears away. “Why are you crying, Sammy? Is this too much for you?”

Moving his lips to form words seemed so difficult. At least Lucifer was busy caressing his face so that he wasn’t touching another part of him. 

Somehow, he managed to make the connection between his mind and his body, and he spoke in an almost strangled voice, “I don’t want you to touch me.”

As he said those words it seemed like he was thrown back into himself. The many sensations of this vile experience flooded him, overwhelming him, and he began to shake. Then, he found it in him to tear Lucifer’s hands away from his face. He aimed a punch at him, but he missed. Now he was sitting up, Lucifer near him, his hands up in a gesture of peace. That angered Sam.

“Whoa, Sam, it’s all good. Everything’s fine.”

And that was when Sam lunged at him, trying to get his hands around his neck. Taken by surprise, Lucifer ended up pinned underneath him, gasping for air. Sam was pleased to see the Devil struggle, to see him not be the one in power for once. But then realization struck him, this would do nothing, there was no killing him. As Sam’s grip faltered a laugh left Lucifer. 

“Losing your resolve there, bunk buddy? It’s alright. You can choke me. There’s no shame in being a little kinky.”

The heat in Sam grew, and he was satisfied that it was no longer from arousal. It was from fury. This dark angel had tormented him, violated him in the deepest ways possible, and now he had the gall to joke about it? He took his hands away from his neck, and before Lucifer could react, Sam began to punch him. Punching him wasn’t as satisfactory as he had thought it might be. Each hit jarred his arm all the way up to his shoulder. After landing a few blows his arms began to feel numb. And that was when Lucifer took action, tackling him so that Sam was on his stomach, lying beneath him. Sam screamed in blind rage and fear. 

Now, the Devil’s voice was in his ear, “You know, Sam, I really didn’t want to use my knife, but you’ve given me no choice.”

That was when Sam felt the blade dig into his abdomen. The pain made him tense beneath Lucifer, and he gasped at the way it burned. He struggled beneath him, attempting to get away. That just earned him another slice to his abdomen, and this time, Sam stayed still, realizing what his punishment would be if he didn’t.

Lucifer raised himself up a bit, putting more of his weight in the lower half of his body. That made him press against him, and Sam swallowed roughly, utterly repulsed when it came to his attention that Lucifer was still aroused. Goosebumps rose up all over his body when Lucifer used the knife to brush some of his hair out of his face; it was wet with his blood. 

“Are you going to be good?” he asked. “Because I’ll be good, but only if you are.”

Sam couldn’t answer. Fear seized him as Lucifer placed the knife aside; now he had both hands free. The heat in Sam’s body began to transform back into the heat of arousal as Lucifer’s hands traveled over him, especially when he reached beneath him to pay attention to his manhood. Sam groaned in defeat as he felt himself becoming erect again. Of course, Lucifer misinterpreted that and took it as a sign that Sam was enjoying himself. That seemed to motivate him, and as he tugged at his length with just a bit more pressure and used his thumb to stroke the tip, he began to lavish his shoulders and the back of his neck with hungry, open-mouthed kisses. 

Sam could feel himself slipping away again, into the recesses of his mind. And this time, he welcomed it. It was less complicated there, he realized. It was more frustrating, but for now, he was tired of fighting, tired of suffering, so all he could do was wait until the Devil expended himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one part left after this one!


	12. Part Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of this fic. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I certainly had fun writing it (I'm just evil like that).

Instead of allowing Sam to drift off to sleep like he had the night before, Lucifer decided that he hadn’t tortured him enough. Sam could disagree with that, but then again it was Satan who was torturing him; mercy wasn’t really in his vocabulary. 

“What’ll it be, Sam?” Lucifer asked as he walked around him. “The torture table again? Or do you think I can come up with something more interesting? 

The cage was now very empty again. Sam had stopped trying to figure out how visual images and reality worked in the cage. The best he could tell was that Hell in itself was another dimension, so therefore, Lucifer, being a very powerful angel, could manipulate it to his will. 

He shivered from feeling the dark angel’s eyes on him. He tried to hide it by crossing his arms against his chest, and to complete the little façade he was putting up he raised his head, making sure he was looking down at him.

“I see what you’re doing, Sam,” Lucifer said as he came to a stop in front of him. “You’re trying to pretend like everything’s okay. Like I haven’t been turning you into my little pet. Let me tell you this; I can see right through that. All this pretending to be strong, indifferent.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not going to work on me, Sam. Your eyes tell me otherwise. You’re terrified of me. You’re ashamed.” He took a step closer, and it took all of Sam’s power to not take a step back. “And you’re beginning to realize how weak you truly are.”

Steeling himself, Sam came up with a response, “Are you just going to listen to yourself talk the rest of the day, or are we going to get to the part where you torture me?”

Lucifer gave him a wry smile before he started encircling him again, more slowly this time. When he was fully out of Sam’s view he sang, “But this is torture for you, Sammy. I know how it gets under your skin. It bothers you so much to know just how helpless you really are.” Sam stiffened when he came up behind him; his breath blew over his ear as he whispered, “No one’s going to rescue you, Sam. This cage, this Hell… it’s eternal, and so am I.”

As Lucifer continued his circle around him, Sam quickly wiped away the tears that had begun making a trail down his face. Undoubtedly, Lucifer noticed, but he didn’t say anything. 

“You’re beginning to break,” he went on, pointing a finger at him. “I know it.” 

“Is that what you want?” Sam asked. “Is that the whole point of this?”

“No,” Lucifer responded, “but… it does make all this more fun. Of course, it’d be more fun if you managed to develop Stockholm syndrome.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked up through the bars of the cage, letting out a sigh. “Our sex life would be so much more enjoyable that way.”

There was nothing to say to that. No way to express the fear, and guilt, and hurt that instantly flared up in him. He clenched his jaw, using all his energy to simply keep it together.

As if snapped out of a reverie he clapped his hands together, making Sam jump. “Enough of that. I do believe it’s time to hurt you, bunk buddy.” And then, there was a chain in his hand. 

Sam swallowed roughly as his mouth suddenly went dry. He cleared his throat, trying to gain the ability to speak.

“Chains again?” he asked, pretending to sound unimpressed. He even went so far as to raise his eyebrows condescendingly. “Do you have a fetish or something?”

Lucifer actually took in what he said; Sam could tell by the way he was eyeing the chain with the little pout he got when he was thinking. 

“I think I might,” he answered honestly. “However, this time it’s not ‘chains’. It’s just the one.” He held it up with a delighted smile on his face. “See?”

“And what’s it for?” Sam asked, trying to sound carelessly disinterested. It was difficult when fear pulsed through him like a wild animal, clawing at him, trying to tear him apart. Lucifer gave Sam a knowing grin when his voice betrayed him, cracking on the last word.

He shrugged as he held the chain up, making a loop and peering at Sam through it. “I just thought I’d do some hanging today. I mean, not like the hanging I did yesterday, though that was fun. Today I just feel like seeing you struggle for breath and slowly die as your strength saps out of you.”

At his words, Sam found himself taking a step back. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes at him. “You know there’s no point in fighting, Sammy.”

Despite Lucifer speaking the truth, Sam found himself balling his hands into fists. He couldn’t help it. A caged and wounded animal still lashed out. 

As Lucifer eyed him he shook his head wistfully. “Bad boy, Sammy. I’m going to punish you later.” He quickly approached him, crowding his personal space. “Maybe a spanking will teach you to give in.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but that was when Lucifer looped the chain around his neck. His hands reached up, scrabbling at the metal that pinched his skin and cut off some of his air supply. Tiny black spots started appearing in his vision. Unable to fight him now, Lucifer took his time to string the chain up through the bars (he’d had to throw it to do so), and then wrap the other end around his neck as well. He gasped as he was hoisted up from the floor. The pressure of the chain worsened until it felt like it would surely crush his neck. Sadly, for the time being, he could still breathe. A quick death would’ve been nice, but he knew Lucifer wasn’t one for even showing that amount of kindness. 

This was, in some ways, worse than the day before. When he’d been torn apart by the hooks he’d still been able to breathe. Doing so had been painful, and feeling his life drip out of him had been its own kind of torment, but the discomfort of being slowly robbed of his oxygen was more panic inducing. His lungs began to ache, his throat was in agony, and his head pounded. The black spots in his vision grew more prominent, his struggles becoming weaker, and all the while, Lucifer looked on with a satisfied smile, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest. 

It was in these moments of incoherence that Sam thought about his situation. Before, he’d endured, but now, it truly hit him. This was all there was. There was nothing left for him except for being tortured and violated. The more his vision faded, the more he wished that this would be it. That he wouldn’t come back this time. 

_Maybe it’d be better if there were nothing after death,_ Sam thought. 

He yearned for that to be how it was, because, even in his addled and weakening state, he feared waking up. He feared opening his eyes to see Lucifer, the cage, the fire, the void. At that moment, Sam felt as if he couldn’t take it anymore. A tiny voice in his head whispered that he’d still endure even when he thought he couldn’t, but it was barely audible. There was just the panic that ebbed and flowed as his life seeped away. 

Then, right before he welcomed the darkness, an unexpected thing happened. There was a painful tearing sensation that reached deep into his very being. He may have renewed his struggles, he couldn’t be sure. But for a while, there was only pain. And then, a blinding light, accompanied by a note that rang so strongly and pure he felt as if his head would explode. 

 

Warmth was on his eyelids, and he opened them tentatively. He raised a hand up to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight that met him. Unaccustomed to such light, but not entirely sure why, his eyes were watering fiercely. 

When he was able to open them at least a smidge, he sat up, realizing he had been lying on the ground. Weird. Why would he do that if it was so uncomfortable? 

Now, as if the thought of comfort had reminded his body of certain needs, his stomach rumbled, and there was a stirring desire for human contact that would no doubt have to be satisfied in a few hours. 

Sam stood up, brushed himself off, and looked around the peaceful clearing he was in. Last he remembered he had thrown himself, Lucifer, and Michael into the cage. And now he wasn’t there. It did strike him as odd, but his rumbling stomach urged him to start walking, to find a town where he could get some food. And unbeknownst to him, as he walked away, he left something crucial behind; a piece of himself that would continue to endure further torture at the Devil’s hands. 

His soul.


End file.
